


We're Chasing The Sun

by Coffee_And_Frerard



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eventual Romance, Gun Violence, M/M, Past Abuse, Smut, Swearing, kindacringyitwasmyfirststory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-04-27 05:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 97,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffee_And_Frerard/pseuds/Coffee_And_Frerard
Summary: A story about stupid high-school drama, discovering love, parents, and most importantly; running away from your problems."We're out of our minds. We're chasing the sun."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original is up on Wattpad. Some feedback would be helpful :)
> 
> Update: Thank you for all the comments here and on Wattpad! This story was the first I published online, so your support means a lot to me. Tysm to all readers here and on Wattpad! xx

"One word," he repeated and snorted, folding his arms sulkily. His eyes indicated a sort of savagery Dr. Piller had never seen in him before. He was glaring at the clock accusingly, as if the poor thing had done something wrong. 

School was starting in two days. School was starting in two days and Gerard couldn't restrain his anger, regardless of his own volition. He didn't like being under the bonds of rage, to be candid, but he couldn't do much about it either. Every time someone pointed out how mad he looked, his vexation resurfaced and his rage was multiplied. When someone stated out the obvious; Gerard flew off the handle. But quite frankly, he wasn't an aggressive guy. It just so happened that, with school being around the corner again, he got easily riled.

Fuck, his therapist wasn't to blame at all, even if he'd just taken it out on her. It was school. The damned system. Gerard had things he wanted to get on with before returning to the Netherworld, that's what enraged him the most.

Thank God, Dr. Piller had attained a decent level of tranquility when it came to her patient, Gerard Way; she knew him well...but that day was a minor exception. The woman had forgotten her afternoon coffee, which she usually gets before Gerard enters her office, and, honestly, who could blame her after that? She couldn't manage with a plaintive teenager  _that_ day, specifically that day. 

And Gerard was aware, he wasn't an idiot, he knew to observe.

Okay, even if he had somewhat of a little sympathy for his doctor, he didn't really have a say in this. He had to let his bellicosity overtake him, simply. Otherwise, he'd erupt like a volcano.

"Yes. Yes, one word, Gerard. How hard is it?" The raised voice of the tired woman startled him. She covered her face with her palm and mumbled something to herself that Gerard hadn't been able to catch.

Her last name was always funny to him. Piller: how fucking ironic, considering, she's a doctor. Specifically his doctor for almost three years then, and for some strange reason, nothing ever changed on her. She always dressed elegantly, in office suits and with her expensive perfume. But well, as mentioned before, that day was a minor exception.  Fatigue had imprinted its marks all over her that day.

"You wouldn't know." Gerard folded his arms sulkily and sat back, resting his back on the chair. An idea rose to his mind and he blatantly proposed it, "We have six minutes left. Can I go home now? Please?" 

"No. You can't get rid of me that easily, you know, never gonna work," Dr. Piller said and rubbed her tired eyes, resisting the urge to yawn. Gerard smirked at the tiny smile that appeared on the corner of her lips; a tiny curl. Whenever that approximation of a smile made a scene, Gerard just had to gasp. He reckoned he should name it.  _Thou shalt be named 'Seldom',_ he thought in his head.

"Ha. You'd be surprised," Gerard insisted, his smirk upgrading into an ironic one. "And honestly, you can't expect me to still answer that question. It's been a while, time to change your methods. Don't you think? Describing my week in one word has gotten really tedious."

"Fine," the woman replied resolutely, moving her eyes up from the papers and endeavoring to come up with something new in that drowsy head of her's. "Very well. Is Ray back yet?"

And that drowsy head of her's had just caused a storm to begin. Gerard tried his best to restrain his anger, telling himself to keep it in and that she's not going to make it; she's going to drop dead right on the spot, she won't manage through another tantrum.  He had to be understanding. Well, in his own way, at least.

Jesus, he couldn't do anything but throw her a glare, which she took as a petition to shut her mouth, thankfully. She cleared her throat and nodded in defeat, conceding her mistake and feeling somewhat empathetic for the teenager sat in her office. They were both tired, after all, just in a different manner and due to their own separate reasons. They could spare themselves some sympathy.

Gerard got up from his seat and glanced down at her. He was mad, alright, but he didn't hate her and they both knew that very well. Hell, three years of seeing the same person; it would've driven him insane if he despised her all along. They've established a solid friendship over the years—at least, they liked to think so. Dr. Piller was like...a chatty hairdresser without the hairdressing part. She had grown talkative and quite sassy during their sessions throughout the years. Bad thing Gerard was going to stop going there, one day.

"Yeah. I'm definitely going now. Get some rest," Gerard advised her in, perhaps, the nicest way possible at that moment, and turned to grab his jacket from his chair. He headed toward the door and looked over his shoulder at her, as if he had forgotten to say something. "And get yourself some coffee, for God's sake."

He slammed the door shut to add to the dramatics and left the building hastily. On a bench at the nearest park, he sat waiting for his mother's car to emerge from across the street. Glancing down at his shoes, he scowled. 

Now he was angry. Angry, because school was starting in two days. Angry with himself, for not doing enough research on more colleges he'd want to apply to. Angry with his doctor, for reminding him of Ray's arrival, which was fucking  _tomorrow_. And maybe, due to her exhaustion, she hadn't noticed how much it had upset Gerard. 

Gerard didn't know how his encounter with Ray would go tomorrow, quite frankly, he had no idea. Should he be ready to face a whole different person with the external characteristics and synonymy of his past friend, Ray, or was Ray the same person after four months of distance?

Hell, Gerard didn't even know how to treat Mikey anymore. These past months, after Ray's departure, to be precise, Mikey had been distant. He rarely talked to his brother and scarcely made the effort to throw him a glance.

It was just Gerard and Bob these days, and even that was rare. 

Gerard felt alone, and not in a good way. His solitude that summer had been draining, it was exhausting, it sucked the life out of him—everything was just so complicated. His life, his head, everything was just a mess. The hardest part, though, came when he had to stand still while watching the world around him crash. His friends were losing everything: Mikey lost himself for a while, Ray almost lost his life in a car crash, Bob lost track of time, and Gerard...Gerard just stared and comforted, trying to conceal his desolation.

Yeah, he'd lost his lust for life, but that was adjusted. He'd determined he didn't need any of that to live on. Yeah, he still hated everyone else apart from his friends and his mother, but things could be worse. Things could always be worse. All of a sudden, when you think that this is the worst it can get, you just need to remind yourself that a bird could fly by and shit on you, and things could be worse. Or an elephant could emerge out of nowhere and stomp on you, and things could be worse. Things could _always_  be worse.

Tomorrow though, thinking about it just made him want to jump out of a freaking window, because tomorrow he'd have to encounter all of his problems at once. He'd have to face a reality, he'd have to prepare himself for a routine that was coming back, and he'd have to eventually talk about colleges with his mother, because fuck, he'd soon be a part of a renowned group in his school called seniors. 

His book of destiny seemed so vacant to him nowadays; a bunch of blank pages revealed before his eyes. It was all written, his fate was right there, but it was written in invisible ink. It only made him feel hopeless, as if there was no future ahead of him. No future for him. But maybe there was some hope on the horizon, maybe Gerard wasn't totally screwed in terms of, well, his life.

Because things could be worse. Or better.

He craned his head back up when he heard a loud honking noise that, thankfully, was his mother.

He got in the car and gave his mother a slight smile, part of him still wandering in the gloomy-looking caves of his meditations.

"So, how did it go?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at her son through the rear-view mirror. Gerard could've done without another interrogation, but whatever; it was a pretty efficient way of distracting himself.

"It was fine. I was thinking about college," he lied and sighed exaggeratedly, not even trying to hide his disenchantment. His mother noticed, but Ms. Way could definitely comprehend her son feeling troubled talking about college. She might have as well agreed with him when she was his age.

"You know you don't have to trouble yourself with that right now, Gerard. Honey, if it's stressing you out...whatever. We can consider taking a year off."

Gerard nodded automatically, staring blankly at the black leather of the passenger seat. His mother looked at him sideways, concerned at the lack of response. She decided to help out by changing the subject.

"Oh! I was talking with Margaret today on the phone and she told me about new kids, y'know," she began—and unlike Gerard, she did an excellent job at hiding her concern behind her cheery tone—"let's see. She told me about a William, from Chicago, from what I recall. A Nichole from somewhere in the south, and a Frank who, I believe, is from our hometown. I think there was one more kid I forgot the name of, but isn't that nice? You barely get new students in your school!"

 _Yeah, that's because we live in the middle of fucking nowhere,_ Gerard wanted to add but held back strongly.

"Yeah," he laughed to himself instead, "nice."

***

Gerard and sleep weren't the best-est of friends, nor would they ever be, most likely. They were much more likely to be each other's enemies.

He woke up at six in the fucking AM. No, wait—falsehood. Gerard stopped  _lying down_  at six AM. When the clouds were painted a bright shade of pink with a tiny hint of gold in them, but also when everyone in the house would most likely be asleep. 

"Fantastic," he muffled in his pillow and groaned loudly.

Eventually, he chose to leave his bed to try and make the most of that morning—basically, faked optimism. He groaned once more before rolling out of his warm cocoon of blankets and, rubbing his eyes, he stormed out of his room, heading to their kitchen downstairs. At least he was looking forward to making that morning suck less with coffee. 

However, something that day was against him that morning, since, when he entered the kitchen, he found his brother eating a bowl of cereal, looking out the window as if in deep thoughts. 

Gerard blinked and stared, standing there unnoticed for a while. The younger Way brother was scared stiff when he heard Gerard let out a silent huff of disbelief, which wasn't really necessary, but neither was it intended. Startled, the spoon slipped from Mikey's tented fingers.

They stared at each other with wide eyes until Mikey leaped off his seat to pick up his spoon from the floor. Gerard didn't move his eyes, which made his brother feel the level of awkwardness rise even more than it actually had, because fuck, it felt like an eternity had passed since they last talked with each other. 

"Uh," Mikey cleared his throat awkwardly, "sorry I woke you."

Gerard frowned, which thank God, because it proved that he was not, in fact, frozen. "Huh? You didn't, I just woke up because..." Gerard mused and, finally, opted to leap over the part where he had to explain. He pretended to go on with his own business. "Sorry, carry on, I just came downstairs to get some coffee."

Mikey sighed, discontented. He made an attempt to look at his brother, but Gerard didn't meet his eyes. God, he was fully ignoring him, Mikey thought, whereas, in reality, it wasn't that Gerard didn't  _want_  to talk to him. He rather felt like Mikey didn't want to talk to him.

"You...you nervous?" Mikey suddenly said and pushed his glasses up as they had slipped down his nose. 

It naturally came as a surprise to Gerard when he heard words directed at him from his brother's mouth. They hadn't talked much at all that summer, even though they basically lived under the same roof, and now _this_ ; Mikey trying to small-talk felt inexplicably strange. 

Gerard looked cowardly sideways at him. "What would I be nervous about?"

"I don't know. Maybe Ray, or school, or—ugh, what I'm I doing? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Gerard. I didn't mean to upset you, I just—" Mikey lowered his gaze, internally yelling at himself to shut up.

"No, no, it's not—you're right. I am nervous," Gerard admitted, which added to Mikey's surprise, "but apart from school, I'm really happy to see Ray again."

"Yeah, I'm happy too," Mikey agreed but, no, he wasn't  _just_  happy. 'Happy' was so inadequate. He felt like he was going to explode and leave a handful of confetti and sparkly stars behind. He felt his chest rising and filling with a strange sense of euphoria. It was something unlike he'd ever felt before. It felt like he was coming home, which was weird because he technically was already home. "Hell," he huffed out, "you're both gonna be seniors this year, and Bob and I still have two years ahead."

Gerard laughed; a laugh that gradually downgraded to a terrorized gasp. 

He fucking knew too well he was going to be a senior. That he was going to be in school for another year and then, boom—he'd have to make decisions and take responsibilities and try his very best at surviving and so on. There was no need to remind him of that. One thing was for sure; he couldn't wait to say goodbye to those assholes. He couldn't wait for his last day, to say:  _far_ _ewell, motherfuckers, I hope we never meet again,_ and feel his lungs flood with ecstasy and keep it there for days.

"You know," he said eventually, "if it wasn't for college and all that horrifying crap, I'd say that I'm looking forward to graduating."

"Cool," Mikey said, somehow comforted because, even though he didn't show it, he fussed over his older brother quite a lot. They'd been so close, how could he not? The only issue then was what he'd done that past summer, which reminded him of how much of an ass he was. The remorse in his chest stung him, it was appalling...but maybe there was a way to ease things out. Mikey had just gone a tiny bit astray for a while. With Ray's arrival, it was the perfect time and way to fix things.

***

Later that day, Bob surprisingly called, proposing his idea of going out to pick up flowers for Ray, which might have not been the best-est idea. Outside, the temperamental weather was proof. Proof, that Mikey tried, in vain, to lay out.

"Ugh, Bob, it's raining. Going out in a forest right now would be a terrible idea, and dude, school starts tomorrow, I don't want to catch a freaking cold!" Mikey grumbled and splayed down on his bed, glancing at Gerard when he appeared from the door, smiling. He raised an eyebrow questioningly and Mikey mouthed Bob's name, adding a groan at the end.

" _Come on!_ " the voice in the other end of the line pleaded heartily. So heartily, that Mikey knew he'd have to give in. " _Plus, you love daisies! Even though you excite yourself over the lamest and most common flower, but whatever. They're all over the place!_ "

"You're such a hippie," Mikey mocked, despite the fact that his friend couldn't see him. "Fine, whatever, but we're not gonna spend more than two hours in that forest for the rest of the week, Bryar. Less than two hours and that's not an offer.  _Bryar_."

" _Fine. Whatever. You didn't have to pull out the last name...Jeez. One hour and fifty-five minutes will have to do, I guess. Way._ "

"Oh, fuck you. If Ray was here right now, he'd plague you about viruses, you know. You know what? You're not escaping this one, be sure that when he comes I'm gonna tell on you,  _Bryar,_ " Mikey declared, grinning wickedly at the phone. He proceeded threatening Bob playfully like that, as Gerard stared. "What?! Is that supposed to be insulting, what the fuck? Gee, throw me my jacket, Bob's up for a challenge. Did you just hear him? The fucker claims I can't climb up a tree, like middle school. That was once, Bob! Yeah, well—we'll see 'bout that!" he carried on talking and talking, with the sense of joy Gerard hadn't seen in him since fucking forever. 

His mouth twitched into a wide smile of pure and true joy. 

Well, it was about time.


	2. Chapter 2

All of them had launched at Ray with bright smiles—yes, even Mikey and, at that, Gerard was caught quite shocked as well. Bob caught Ray and Mikey into a tight embrace, which thank god Gerard escaped just in time. After a few minutes had passed, Bob loosened his tight embrace, adding a dramatic 'I'll never let go' which was inevitably going to lead to very unnecessary Titanic jokes by Ray, shortly followed by one of Mikey's typical 'shut up's.

And throughout the whole thing, Gerard stared blankly, smiling.

"Don't you ever do that to me again! You hear me, you asshole?" Mikey threatened, pounding on his friend's chest, because, fucking hell, those had been one of the hardest months in Mikey Way's entire life and Ray had no idea.

Gerard began to walk toward the car to help grinning Mrs. Toro with Ray's stuff. He heard shouts of laughter and raised voices behind. All that sounded so familiar to him. He didn't know how much he had missed this, not until then. You don't really know what you got, not until you lose it. He wouldn't let go of it ever again, though. If anyone ever dared to snatch that away from him, he'd turn into Hulk.

"He missed you guys so much, you have no idea," Mrs. Toro said. "Wouldn't shut up about you. He'd drive the nurses crazy."

But oh, unfortunately, Gerard was afraid he'd have to correct her right there; Ray had no idea how much they'd missed him.

And right then, in the Toro household, everything strangely felt like it was coming back. Aimless shit they'd throw to make time pass, Bob's insubstantial talent at Halo, drinking (apparently Mikey had sneaked some alcohol out of their house without Gerard nor his mother noticing?) and of course, the radio playing songs that brought back so many memories...silently somewhere in the room.

***

"Ughhhh," Gerard groaned into his pillow and made a valiant—though futile—effort to go back to sleep. For once, he wasn't waking up inexplicably in the middle of the night, no. This was far worse; he had to get up for school.

They should let him sleep it off. Or just sleep, in general, no need for justifications. This was totally unfair; it was only yesterday he had reunited with his friend again. He didn't want to get out of bed to go to school. School; what a lame excuse to get up. He wasn't sure of if he was lacking motivation as always again, or just had a point, but whatever. He wished for the latter.

"Gerard, baby, it's time to get up!" he heard his mother shout again and made whimper sounds in response, to lure her pity. But it was no use. So, his last hope was wishing for the classic 'ugh, just five more minutes' technique to work.

"Gerard, you don't want to be late on your first day. Don't make me come up there and open the curtains. You know you don't want to," his mother threatened, more fiercely this time. And honestly, fuck Gerard's life, his mother knew him too well. He'd have to change his methods soon.

But not right then, otherwise he'd be blinded by a bunch of external, dazzling light and, to be frank, Gerard didn't like the idea of that at all. So, he cursed his life one more time and got out of bed, contemplating potential ways to suppress his anger right then and there, but unfortunately, he was left with empty hands. Maybe school had sucked the whole creativity out of him already, just by its poisonous idea rising to his mind.

He walked heavily down the stairs and was immediately met with his mother's eyes when he strolled into the kitchen. She gave him a warming grin Gerard knew wouldn't help in the situation too much, despite its brilliant brightness.

He lost interest in pessimistic thinking, though, as soon as he laid eyes upon his brother, who seemed to be eating at the moment. Mikey moaned in annoyance, noticing that Gerard's eyes were pinned on him.

"I really don't understand what's so fascinating about me eating, Gerard."

Gerard smiled warmly and bounced around happily, looking for a coffee mug.

***

"Ah, yes, I'd like to welcome you to another wonderful year—" perhaps your very last, if you're lucky, Gerard wanted to add but held back strongly— "truly honored and thrilled to have you back here, children. Citizens of the future! What a wonderful present, frankly, we are delighted-"

Gerard had stopped listening after that. Mr. Johnson seemed to always bore him. He always talked and talked indefinitely, completely ignoring the fact that nobody was listening to him.

Seriously. Kids were seemingly falling asleep in the back and Mr. Johnson paid no mind to it. The conclusion Gerard had come to was: Mr. Johnson lives alone with about fifty cats in an apartment. Hence his compulsive talking, he is used to people not responding. Talkaholism, and, yes, that is a word. It seems like a pretty believable story.

The old man proceeded to welcome the new kids, which Gerard thought was something he'd have to scoff at, necessarily. Who even welcomes new students in high school, anyway? Oh, and not to mention the fact that they are in grade twelve. It must be a terrifying experience for the newcomers, too.

He decided to ignore annoying old Mr. Johnson for a moment and give priority to three new students that stood awkwardly next to him, looking wide-eyed. Poor souls. Gerard was thankful he didn't have to go through that dreadful process on his first day.

"Please, welcome Mr. William, um, Bu...Bouquet? Would you like to tell us a few things about yourself, William?" Mr. Johnson's voice was dripping with enthusiasm, making Gerard feel sick. The old man stared at the boy stood in front of him, but the boy didn't look really pleased. Gerard presumed Mr. Johnson had mispronounced his name, as he always tended to do.

You know, Gerard bet Mr. Johnson would mispronounce his name as well. Even though he's known him for four years, he still doesn't hold back on calling Gerard 'Jared' or sometimes even 'Billie', puzzling him, since he didn't know how on earth he had come to that.

William's, sentence was almost incomprehensible by the amount of 'um's and 'uh's that were thrown, but despite that, Gerard got something about him liking basketball or whatever. Everyone stared at the boy following the teacher's finger that pointed to a seat next to Gabe Saporta.

Well, rest in peace, Gerard thought, pitying the kid. Gabe was an asshole.

"Welcome, Ms. Nichole Williams. Heh, another William! Would you like to tell us something about yourself, Nichole?"

Needless to say, Mr. Johnson had the humor of a twelve-year-old and also seemed to possess, in fact, no taste in fashion, Gerard judged by his colorful suit that powerfully reminded him of Willy Wonka. Hey, what a great idea, maybe he should get him a top hat to help to complete his Willy Wonka look. Perhaps that would guarantee him some points, since he wasn't planning on paying attention to that class again.

The girl's voice was strangely filled with excitement as she described her hobbies in a few quick sentences. She then sat next to Ryan Ross, who shook her hand and gifted her a welcoming, warm grin.

After Gerard had whispered his smart remark to Ray, about Mr. Johnson again and how this wasn't an award show, he fixed his gaze upon an unfamiliar expression drawn on his teacher's face.

Gerard frowned.

What? Could it be?

Did that man feel other emotions, apart from inexplicable and strange excitement? Aw, and Gerard was almost convinced he was a robot. Dammit. How disappointing.

"And welcome Frank Anthony Iero. Would you like to tell us about yourself, Frank?" the teacher, as nervous looking as Gerard had ever seen him, fixed his striped bow-tie, watching that Frank-guy with such scrutiny, Gerard would feel offended if he was the poor kid.

However, Gerard's intrigue coerced him to follow the teacher's eyes, only to lay them upon a black-haired boy with ripped as hell jeans and an over-sized hoodie, as well as a questioning raised eyebrow directed to the teacher. He didn't understand what the kid had done and scared Mr. Johnson off, but he wished he'd do it again.

The old man leaned in interestingly, anticipating a reply, but the boy shook his head, dismissing his request and, well, treating Gerard's entertainment.

Mr. Johnson's face had a 'don't be ridiculous' expression written all over it, and Gerard strained, waiting to hear him utter a sharp reply to the boy. But Mr. Johnson desperately tried again instead, with a misleadingly welcoming grin to change up the vibe a bit.

"Oh, come on, don't be shy, Frank. Everyone's nice here!"

Futile. The black-haired kid didn't look convinced, and okay, the only thing Mr. Johnson had accomplished was to make Gerard laugh, because seriously, if that was a joke, then it was definitely a good one. Perhaps the best joke Alexander Johnson had ever made.

Yeah, everyone's so nice, Gerard didn't know where to start. Totally. Gabe was such a gentleman and Brendon Urie was such a noble boy. They even provided beneficial in-school services, such as letting you know how much you suck by flicking spitballs in your hair. Oh, and let's not forget; they decrease your already low self-esteem by calling you names! How nice of them.

Yeah, definitely.

If Gerard were to offer any kind of advice to the new kid, it'd be to run while he still can, and that would probably only be directed to him because the others seemed to be doomed already, whereas the boy still had some time left.

The William-kid was doomed to begin with when he was ordered to sit next to Gabe fucking Saporta, and Nichole seemed to have fallen in the Reagan Johanson trap by, well, just glancing at her make-up smeared face. Gerard wondered what people they'd become by the end of the school year, especially intrigued to learn what would happen to that poor Frank. He'd probably get shoved and pushed against lockers while an everyday-bully spat vulgar remarks at him.

He rather not think about that. He turned his attention back to the scene; Frank didn't look convinced. He looked annoyed. He mumbled a really silent 'I rather not' that time. Gerard had to admit that he was fully on the kid's side.

Even after another of the older man's pointless attempts—and last, Gerard hoped, because okay, it was amusing for a while but he was growing tired of it—Frank abjured, which soon caused the teacher to stare with complete and utter shock.

Gerard had to block his mouth with his palm to hold back his incoming laughter. Mr. Johnson sighed and loftily index-pointed to an empty seat, to which Frank finally obeyed.

And the room was suspiciously quiet for a while until old Mr. Johnson felt the urgent need to open his small mouth again.

Gerard buried his face in his hands, hearing that the man had begun explaining what they'd be occupied with for the rest of that dreadful year. If Gerard's level of enthusiasm was at one before he'd gotten there, now it had dropped to minus thousand.

He turned to look at the new kid, out of pure and clear curiosity, and noticed that he was steadily looking like he was going to murder someone. And Gerard really sympathized.

"Psst," he tried to catch Ray's attention, whispering in his ear, then added shortly, "Ray, how many days until the next school holiday?"

Ray's eyebrows furrowed. "Seriously? Gerard, school just started," he said, as if Gerard should just compromise, which definitely wasn't going to happen. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad."

Gerard stared at him with wide eyes. He was stunned, but then again, he should've expected that kind of reaction from Ray.

"We are going to have a wonderful time, I bet!" his ear caught Mr. Johnson saying, in a completely different tone than before.

Nope.

Gerard couldn't take any of that optimism of his. It belonged to some Utopian far-away universe, not Gerard's life. Hey, maybe he should beg the kid to come back and do something, anything would do.

He hoped Mr. Johnson would choke on his own spit, right then and right in front of him.

Folding his arms, he evidently turned to face Ray, not even caring about getting caught talking anymore. "I am serious. I am being held here against my will," he added dramatically.

Fucking fuck you, Mr. Johnson, for making this day suck even more, Gerard thought.

***

It was only the second day and, somehow, Gerard had managed to do the same mistake as last year, again.

"I had a shit day."

"How unusual. Articulate?" Ray mocked with a smile, carefully placing books in his locker, but not diverting his attention from Gerard. He expected a more, well, informative answer.

"Where do I begin..." Gerard rolled his eyes, his back rested against the hallway wall. He didn't even care about the prints he'd leave with one foot on that wall; he was rather doing it deliberately. Leaving his marks in the school already. Next thing he'd do would be writing 'Gerard was here' with his own blood on the walls, he thought nefariously.

"Begin where you want to begin. But do begin. I told you that coming with us would be a good idea, but you didn't listen to me, did you?" Ray pointed out with a hidden savagery behind his words.

"Sorry, I was exhausted...and his voice, God, his annoying voice kept echoing in my head and I just wanted to sleep, because I didn't get any sleep the night before and—" Gerard stopped to breathe and began explaining from the top, "anyway, yeah, I got home, tried to sleep and what do you know: I fell asleep! Woo-hoo."

Ray didn't speak up instantly, as if he knew Gerard's intentions to go on.

"Of course, Pete Wentz had to wake me up in the middle of the night, didn't he?" Gerard let out a sardonic laugh, still quite disturbed and reminiscent of the event. "It was two in the freaking AM! He couldn't at least fucking wait until school, and where is he now, anyway? That boar, I'll—"

"Wait, who? And exactly what and why?" Ray looked at him in question but it was no use; Gerard was looking around for that dick that had disturbed his sleep yesterday night.

Once his mission was proved to be unsuccessful, he nodded. "Yep. He had a few drinks. Indubitably. And when I say 'few' I really mean 'more than you can find in your dad's cellar'. I think he was with some other dudes as well, 'cause I could hear people laughing. And he asked, and I immediately rejected, and he went 'how about yes', and I told him 'how about no', and then I hung up. The reprobate fuck. Does he not know that people could be sleeping at two AM?"

Ray gave him a puzzled look, clearly not getting what Gerard was murmuring about.

"Exactly what did he want from you again?"

"What do you think?" Gerard crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at Ray. He soon realized that Ray wasn't getting it and moaned, "Ray. What else would he want from me? Mikey. To get them in touch right at that moment."

Ray's eyes went wide, glancing over Gerard's shoulder which Gerard hadn't noticed.

"Jesus fuck!" he cursed, and Gerard was ready to nod in agreement but then noticed that Ray wasn't reacting to his perspective of news, but rather to the clock. "I'm late to French and I've got McMillan. See ya later, Gee," he announced but while turning to leave, stopped. Ray stared at Gerard, waiting for any kind of motion. "Are you going to stay here? Don't you have somewhere to be?" he pointed out eventually.

Gerard looked guilty back at him and unfolded his arms, sighing.

"Well, I can't just let them talk," he stated. Ray had to disbelievingly huff at Gerard's matter-of-fact tone.

"Nothing bad is gonna happen. You stress yourself out too much. Trust me, you don't know. Y'know, I'd be more concerned about you. It seems rather sketchy, the fact that of all the people he called you."

"Pfft. History doesn't repeat itself, Ray. Not in my life, at least."

"Right..." Ray rolled his eyes and, nodding a quick goodbye, he jogged off toward room 202.

And Gerard was met with himself again. Alone. In an empty, eerie hallway. Ditching class: that is something his mother would definitely not tolerate on his second day of school.

And his ruminations were once more disturbed by the sound of a creaking door. Question was, which door, because every freaking door in that accursed school creaked annoyingly.

He was relieved to see no sign of a teacher wandering around, after scanning the room with his eyes...and surprised to see a familiar face behind the glass door. A boy sat on the stairs leading up to the third floor. Struggling to identify the figure that was submerged in morning sunlight coming from the nearest window, Gerard leaned forward.

Frank was the guy's name, if he recalled correctly, but that was all useless to him then, since the guy had noticed him. Gerard dropped his eyes to the floor.

Perhaps his staring wasn't as polite, and he didn't want to offend the poor kid, having witnessed what he'd gone through in Mr. Johnson's class the other day.

But Frank didn't look away. He kept his eyes fixed upon Gerard, and okay, it was practically impossible to ask of Gerard not to look. Every human would do it in that situation.

He couldn't make much out of his expression, since the light was blinding him and all, but all it took him was a quick moment to notice that—oh my god, he had piercings. Fuck, and piercings Gerard would normally be jealous of. Fucking fear of needles and fucking fuck sunlight that was blinding Gerard so that he couldn't stare and sigh at his crushed dreams.

He continued to look, not sure of about how much amazement was evident in his staring, and...eventually stopped his intense idolizing of the guy he didn't even know, to realize that now Frank had fixed his eyes on him.

But Frank was rather looking suggestively, if Gerard dared to put it that way. Maybe Gerard did creep out the guy by staring like that. Surely he did go a bit overboard with the idolizing shit. He didn't mean to.

Frank lowered his head and smirked, and fuck, his eyes were still looking fixedly at Gerard.

Gerard tried to look away; he had to distract himself, so that he wouldn't have to go through that embarrassing moment. He eventually figured that Frank had to be fucking with him, playing some kind of a joke. Maybe he was a funny guy, despite Gerard's first interpretation?

He slowly averted his eyes from him, and right when he was going to stare at something else: Frank winked at him.

Okay, his attention was definitely won back, and he was lost for a moment but, eventually, his brain started to come to more rational conclusions. The guy was clearly joking. Mostly because he had sat up and seemed to be laughing in amusement.

From then and on, Gerard tried not look at Frank for the remaining twenty minutes. Well, despite himself, but since he felt like Frank wasn't enjoying having a pair of eyes pinned on him constantly, he didn't want to ruffle the guy's feathers.

Fifteen minutes of boredom had crept by.

He noticed, from the corners of his eyes, the figure standing up and, alright, who could blame him for looking? Frank was already eyeing him, anyway, so Gerard reckoned he didn't mind anymore.

But then Frank was getting closer. Gerard's eyebrows met questioningly as he studied him sharply.

Before he knew it, Frank was inches away from him. And then inches away from his face, like he was going to read him in Tarzan-style or something. Gerard didn't really have a choice, other than stand there awkwardly and breathe quietly—or not breathe at all.

Finally, Frank narrowed his eyes at Gerard, throwing a splash of a smirk at the whole image as well.

"Stop looking at me like that. It's weird. You're weird," he said to him and Gerard shivered at his accent. After that, the guy just turned away, whistling and laughing all by himself like an absolute lunatic. Maybe the guy is an absolute lunatic, Gerard thought, sneering.

He couldn't really do anything, other than wince and stare disbelievingly because, seriously, what in the name of oh-holy-Lyssa had just happened? What the fuck had Gerard just experienced? The whistling and laughter ceased; at least that Frank-guy had gotten lost from his sight.

And as if Gerard hadn't had enough today, his perplexity was interjected by a good scare:

"What are you doing here, Gerard? We still have five minutes left—hey, don't you have somewhere to be? In class, let's say?"

Gerard jumped startled and sucked in one heavy lungful of air, only to later recognize the blonde boy's eyes looking inquisitive wide at him. Alright, sirens off. He could calm down.

"Bob!" he exclaimed, feeling betrayed.

"Gerard!" Bob imitated, grinning. "C'mon, man, what are you doing here? You waitin' for someone?"


	3. Chapter 3

"These are the forgeries of jealousy; and never since the middle summer's spring, met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead..." Mr. Johnson, totally known as Gerard's favorite teacher, continued reading the play aloud with rapture, whilst Jase and Brendon continued kicking against Gerard's chair. They let quiet giggles escape their mouths because, apparently, it was fucking hilarious.

Until Ryan gave Brendon an eyebrow raise. And strangely, that was all it took for them to stop.

Ryan was a cool dude; he was overall pretty chill. He had the advantage of being openly gay, but also not made fun of, unlike a lot of people that were recently out the closet—and still in the closet. And not to mention, he had his own band. And, like, bodyguards or whatever they were.

If someone dared to open their mouth and make fun of Ryan Ross, well, they'd be dead by the next day. That was because of Brendon Urie. The number one bodyguard.

These two were so dissimilar, and if someone contradicted Gerard at that, they should go reevaluate their life. Seriously. No one could even compare Brendon asshole Urie to Ryan Ross. It's like comparing a moth to a freaking glamorous butterfly, you just don't do that.

Who even likes moths?

Gerard especially despised moths like Brendon Urie—who, mind you, had resumed kicking against his chair after Ryan was excused to visit the restroom. Brendon and Jase had started chuckling again. Evil chuckles. Like demonic five-year-olds' chuckles.

Gerard just didn't get it. He wasn't an easy target. Was he? Well, even if he was, there was no need to point it out. Why be so mean? Did Brendon Urie seriously never watch Bambi as a child? 'If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all.'

Gerard blamed the system. It was their fault Brendon turned out like that. If school had made him think about his life a little, that all wouldn't be happening. Take Mr. Johnson, for example; how could he go on like that? Gerard was wondering how the fuck his teacher wasn't bored of his miserable life yet. If only he'd thought about being a teacher a second time in the past, he could've grown up to be a terrific rhetorician or something along those lines. Stuff that requires a lot of speaking, you know?

But no. Instead, Mr. Johnson was torturing and plaguing seventeen-year-olds with Shakespeare.

Not that Gerard didn't like Shakespeare or anything, but his anger was burning up inside him with the ringing, annoying voice of his demented teacher, and he swore his life was cursed, and fucking hell, those assholes were still kicking against his chair, and with every kick he could feel his chair—!

"Fu-uck," he stuttered. Gerard fell off his chair. To be honest, he should've seen that coming.

He literally fell off his chair and everybody burst into laughter as he struggled to stand up, cheeks red.

He literally fell off his chair and everybody was laughing, for fuck's sake. What was so amusing about his physical pain? Now he was almost certainly letting his faith in humanity slip out of him and he honestly didn't care. He didn't even want to live on this planet anymore. Humans. Disgusting creatures.

Gerard genuinely preferred to live with a malevolent entity such as a demon. A shapeshifter-motherfucker like Pennywise maybe. At least then, his life would have some unfeigned suspense, finally. He had enough of high-school drama; a week with Pennywise would feel like being on a fucking holiday, really.

Heck, even Hell would feel like being on a holiday at that point.

"Everybody, calm down," Mr. Johnson tried and turned to Gerard with a compassionate glance. "Oh, Gerard. Are you okay?"

Gerard remained quiet while people let quiet chuckles escape their mouths.

Man, how he wished Ray could be there with him. Or Bob. Or his brother, who nobody had seen since lunch and that seemed pretty sketchy to Gerard, considering the fact that nobody had seen Pete Wentz since lunch, either.

Another mystery to be solved.

But it was not the time yet. No, he was still going through the Mr. Johnson-ordeal. Torment. A true torment he had to endure every week, yet the agony and pain seemed so fresh and draining every time.

It seemed like a solid eternity had passed for the bell to finally ring, and when the noise echoed through the classroom, Gerard launched himself out his seat and out of the room without a word to anyone. His expression changed to a baffled one, once he saw Bob waiting in the same hallway as before.

Does Bob Bryar ever attend any of his classes?

"There you are!" the blond boy exclaimed and then reported to Gerard's expression, "wanna go grab lunch with Ray? Mikey, err, has some things to talk about with someone. I don't even know."

From the corner of his eyes, Gerard caught Pete, hysterically laughing and walking away. No. No, why was he walking away, and who was he laughing with?

"You okay, man?" Bob asked, extinguishing every single one of Gerard's plans to ran after Pete. "Gee, dude, you won't believe how close I was from getting expelled again. McMillan caught me with her devilish eagle-eyes—" And so, Bob went on rambling for a while, keeping Gerard on the spot. It was as if he was doing it intentionally, Gerard thought. Once he was finished, the clock showed five minutes ahead.

"Dammit," Gerard cursed under his breath, dismayed. "Okay, uh, yeah. Ugh, we'll meet outside in twenty minutes. I need to, um, show a new kid around?"

"You showing a new kid around? Are you sure you're okay?" Bob raised an eyebrow and, finally, decided to shrug it off, letting Gerard ran off to wherever he was supposedly going.

Gerard's smile evaporated when Bob exited the building. He started walking off sheepishly and, eventually, his pace quickened.

Pete's an asshole and Mikey's lost. End of story, he always seemed to think. But what if, in reality, he was the lost one? Maybe he was the one not getting it. He almost stopped for a moment to think: what the fuck am I running for? But no, there was no time to be dubious. Pete Wentz had to be stopped...from whatever he was doing. Heaven knows, he could as well be putting a spell on Mikey.

If only Gerard had realized that there was no point in running around like a maniac.

He was soon sucking in lungfuls of air greedily, trying to curse away those infuriating past memories, infected by Pete Wentz. His eyes checked every door for the odd number he was looking for, not even bothering to quickly glance on the left side, which was a really bad idea since he was running on that side, but oh, what could happen? The hallway was empty, anyway.

Or so he thought.

With his eyes and full attention focused on the numbers that barely looked like numbers to him anymore, and his lungs burning, begging for precious air, he didn't even notice the person who was picking stuff up from the corridor floor.

Gerard only had time to turn his head and gasp as a dreadful feeling engulfed his body, before tripping over the kid on the ground and slamming his own poor face on the half-opened locker.

And that was how Gerard Way died. The end, he thought dramatically when he was brave enough and convinced that his eyes wouldn't fall out of their sockets if he opened them, only to see that, yes, the kid he'd just tripped over was none other than that obnoxious asshole he'd stumbled upon some days ago.

Oh, marvelous. Just excellent.

"Fuck," Gerard had only time to say when he reached the point of realization. Frank didn't look glad to see him. Gerard swore he heard him growl. Well. What a surprise, really. The dude had four out of the top five characteristics of a serial killer. Was Gerard going to get murdered?

"Watch where you're going, asshole!" he yelled at Gerard, groaning in pain and touching his aching back. "You fucking tackled me."

Gerard felt his shoulders hunching with every word Frank spat at him. And in spite of the pain his body was in, he got up quickly and tried to stutter something out. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—fuck, did I hurt you?"

Since he thought it was a good idea, he reached out for Frank's arm to help him up, but the guy jerked upwards and pushed him away as quickly as possible. Impulsive, huh? Well, that ticks off five out of the five characteristics, proving that Frank is indeed a serial killer.

"Don't fucking touch me, I don't need any help," he snarled at him, hugging himself protectively as if Gerard The Cannibal was about to eat him.

Gerard reluctantly stepped back, his frowning causing his face to feel instant, sharp pain again. He tried to ignore it. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to... help."

He heard Frank mumbling to himself something along the lines of "I don't need your fucking help" again, and wow, how rude. Gerard's body was screaming in suffering, and there was Frank, making his restlessness increase.

He watched as livid-Frank struggled to stand up, not even thinking about offering his help this time. Frank then knelt down to the floor again to pick up everything Gerard had caused him to drop, narrowing his eyes as if in fiery pain.

Gerard stared, remaining silent. He wasn't sure of why he was still standing there; probably to apologize again, but hopefully when that wrathful, murderous expression had grown fainter on Frank's face.

"Man, you look like such a cunt, looking at me like that. Fucking quit it, leave...fag," Frank spat spitefully.

Aaaaand thus, red lights began to flicker in Gerard's head.

"Are you serious?" he huffed out incredulously. Frank gave him a quick glance and looked away immediately, and perhaps that made Gerard want to yell 'where's your fucking creativity?' because seriously, everybody came up with the same insults and it was slowly, really irritating him. What effect did the word 'fag' have to Gerard anyway? Was it supposed to insult, or abase him, or what?

Nevertheless, he held back on punching the guy in the fucking stomach, and instead, found another way to express his anger. Not quite as adequate and fulfilling as punching him would be, but then again, Gerard didn't really want to awake Frank's murderous spirit by getting into a physical fight with him. That didn't change the fact that he was on his wit's end.

"Dude, what's your problem? I just wanted to help because I tripped over you—What's wrong with you?"

"And like I said; I don't need any help. Now, shoo..." Frank said and made a shooing motion with his hands, making Gerard's jaw drop to the floor in disbelief at his attitude. He decided to ignore it. Go back to his search for Mikey, or Pete, or Jesus, whoever; he just had to leave.

Speak of the devil, he turned around to encounter a confused Pete, and determined that he didn't have time for his shit, okay, he had to get this over with. So, with Frank's eyes stapled to his back and Pete's distressing expression, he spoke a: "where's Mikey," directed at Pete Wentz.

"He just left with—" and that was all Gerard needed from him; a thumb pointed in the direction his brother went. He pushed Pete Wentz aside haughtily, heading toward the door. He stopped when a heavy hand settled on his shoulder. That fucker's got a nerve, alright.

"Gee, wait."

"It's Gerard for you," Gerard demanded and glared threateningly at him.

Pete gave in to his wish, rolling his eyes. "Fine, Gerard, wait," he corrected and went on carelessly, "why are you being such an ass? Come on, let bygones be bygones? I mean, sorry I woke you the other day, I guess."

Gerard suddenly realized that he had no time for the guy, even though no time restriction was after him. He dismissed Pete Wentz's boring babbling, full of incoherent bullshit.

"Yeah, right. Look, talks can't go indifferently, Pete. I need to find my friends and—"

"You have friends?" Frank shouted from afar. Excellent. And just when Gerard thought that whole ordeal would end. Frank laughed at his own joke, which Gerard thought was ridiculous and pathetic. It was ridiculously pathetic; the guy must have some serious problems.

Gerard sighed in exasperation and clenched his eyes shut.

"I thought he couldn't speak," Pete seemed to cut off one of Gerard's hopeful attempts to far-away transportation through contemplation. "Wow, you're making friends, Gerard?"

And Pete was also mocking him, that's just fantastic. Pete fucking Wentz was making fun of him.

"Oh, he can speak, alright," Gerard huffed out, "and we're not friends. He hates me and I hate him equally." He particularly emphasized on his last word for Frank to hear but didn't accomplish much since, instead of leaving, the guy seemed to be approaching. This was definitely not Gerard's day.

"Yeah. Hey, is that your boyfriend? Oh, and you told me you're not gay, you liar," he bumped Gerard in the shoulder and that was just great; because it wasn't only the universe and Pete Wentz mocking him now, no, but also a newfound asshole called Frank. Now it was only for Brendon Urie to show up, get the whole ass-gang together, and Gerard would definitely jump out the third floor.

"Very funny," he managed to say and shot Frank an annoyed look at which he just giggled. He really tried to express his anger and severity by glowering straight at Frank's eyes, but the dude just looked at him with a wide grin. Why wasn't anyone taking him seriously? Fucking unfair.

He tried to look really serious. Futile.

That intense stare-battle would surely go on if Pete Wentz hadn't interrupted again. Why? Well, simply because Pete's such an attention seeker.

"Uh, okay. You guys have fun, I guess?" And before leaving, he remembered to add, as an addition to the dramatics, the drama queen he was, "oh, and Gerard? Please, believe me. I swear, I didn't mean to...y'know."

In other words, Pete meant to puzzle Frank like that, increase his curiosity, because, well; attention seeker. But he wasn't the one to cope with him afterward.

"Yeah, Jared, please believe him. He didn't mean to cheat on you with your sister," Frank said when Pete seemed to be completely out of their sight.

"I don't have a sister. My name is not Jared. Pete and I are not dating. Christ, you're really annoying, you know that?" Gerard stated bluntly and began marching toward the door, feeling a spasm of pain pinching him again. He soon enough noticed Frank beside him, following. He tried his best not to show any hint of distress or express the pain he was in, in any way, but he probably failed, judging from the amusement flying away from Frank's face.

"You, um..." Frank began but didn't finish his sentence. Well, thank God for that. Gerard didn't want to start a chit-chat and he sincerely hoped Frank was only following him to exit the building, too. "So, anyway, what's your name if it isn't Jared?"

Gerard was baffled. Hell, that guy looked like he was going to kill him only minutes ago, and the change was too sketchy for him to trust. But well, he didn't exactly want that previous murderous-looking Frank to return.

"It's Gerard, actually," he said gingerly, squinting, "why the sudden change?"

"Huh? Oh. What, you want me to go back to being an ass again? Very well. You're not going that way, right?" he thankfully pointed to the opposite direction, definitely not where Gerard was going, so Gerard took a moment to sigh internally.

"No."

"Great." Frank smirked scornfully and walked off, whistling to the tune of 'This Is Halloween'. Gerard crinkled his nose as he stared at him it the distance. He shook his head wildly and pushed the door open, allowing a cold breeze from outside to enter.

Summer was gone, he realized mournfully.

He also realized that a hooded Bob Bryar with his nose in a book was waiting outside. He hurried toward him and whistled, grudgingly influenced by Frank. Not that that would grab any of Bob's attention, of course.

"Bob," Gerard laughed and finally caused Bob to look up, his poker-face evaporating to a startled expression, prompting Gerard to ask, "what?"

"Dude, what went wrong with the tour? I saw you running and—wait, what happened to your face?"

Great. Now there was something wrong with his face. He reached to touch a finger to his jaw; swollen and sore. Just what he needed. Overall, Gerard couldn't tell what he had done to deserve this day. He sighed and hunched his shoulders, kicking stones around with his feet and watching them skip away.

On their way home, Gerard apprehensively tried to avoid the coming question 'what happened to your face' that rose to Bob's lips constantly.

"What a wonderful weather we're having today!"

"It's drizzling, Gerard."

"And what's so bad about that?"

And so, for the remaining ten minutes of walking, Gerard was instead extensively reflecting his hate for school lockers, and he sometimes stopped to drop Frank into his haphazard words, too. Bob was utterly confused as to whom Gerard was referring to. He swore his friend had gone absolutely insane, jumping from one vague subject to the other.

They soon arrived at the Way household. Ray was fumbling around the kitchen for ice to help Gerard's poor face. Bob was still observing Gerard, mouth agape. And Gerard was lost in concocting elaborate, malicious revenge schemes to sneak into Pete Wentz's house and shave his head. Mikey had collapsed on the couch.

"You know," Ray blew his hair away from his face, "I don't understand why you're being so protective. Mikey's doing okay. And like I said, I'd be more concerned about Pete making up another rumor...and what I also don't understand is how that managed to bruise so fast, man, what the hell? How did that happen?"

"Told you. I fell over and—argh, Ray! That fucking burns!"

Ray shushed him for sleeping-Mikey's sake and pressed the ice tray against Gerard's bruised jaw insensitively.

***

Very often did Gerard feel time slipping from his fingers. The week had passed uneventfully; well, kind of.

He didn't give the drama-queen, Pete Wentz, too much of his attention. Pete only seemed to get scattered, hate-filled glares from Gerard whenever they'd stumble upon each other in hallways, bathrooms and the cafeteria. Which should be about enough.

Mikey, Ray, and apparently Bob, seemed to be indifferent in terms of the subject, which didn't exactly bother Gerard, but it did make him doubt his actions now and then. Unfortunately, that was all left behind every time his eyes caught a glimpse of Pete Wentz again. Okay, maybe he did give the drama-queen too much of attention, after all.

Occasionally, he caught some suspicious looks from Frank. It was all a never-ending, repetitive cycle; he'd glare at Pete Wentz, then he'd stumble upon Frank, later he'd get thrown a few raised eyebrows and looks of maybe arrogance. He couldn't quite make out what those looks meant, which had him puzzled over the rest of the day.

So, overall, he felt like he had a wearing mist of vagueness, following him everywhere.

Pete wasn't exactly wrong. Frank did avoid everyone. While, of course, he'd still be bothering Gerard. He threw him remarks and sly insults. Gerard didn't reckon, he didn't seem to recall seeing Frank talking to anyone—well, except Ryan Ross, but that only happened once, when he woke up from his brief nap in Mrs. Carpenter's class and wanted to know the page they were on.

And now, Gerard had to sum up his entire week in one session hour he was given—which, though not abnormally hard, he was still having trouble focusing on his current task with everything going on in his mind.

Something that should be mentioned is that that one session hour could be his last. He somehow knew about this ending before everyone had told him.

"What?" Dr. Piller inquired, looking rather uneasy from the way Gerard stared at her. He couldn't just answer to a blunt 'what'. What did she mean by 'what'? If she was asking him what was wrong, there would probably be no quick response to that, too. She had no right to expect a brief answer today.

"What are you thinking about, Gerard?" she rephrased.

Everything, he wanted to respond. Everything in that room. Everything in the world. Her current marriage status, homicide, Frank, John Travolta, pudding after dinner; everything.

"You're wearing blue jeans," he noted instead and huffed incredulously.

The woman looked rather offended. She threw her hands up, "I'm only human."

"I didn't think you knew they exist!"

"Well," she leaned in and said with a hidden savagery floating on her tongue, "I'm sorry you didn't know I had a life outside this office, Gerard. Impressive shiner, by the way, that seems like something I'd like to hear an elaborate explanation about. Would you like to start?"

To be frank, Gerard couldn't, for the life of him, quit his deep thinking. Was he going to see his therapist ever again? He hoped to, but that also meant that some problem would have to occur along the way.

He tried contemplating realistic plans to drift himself into reality again. The only thing he could do was speak, and once he was done summing up the whole week in about fifty prolonged sentences, he was asked to rate his week on a scale from one to ten. One being the worst and ten being the best.

Gerard, as he tended to do most of the time, avoided the question and justified himself with the fact that their time was up. Dr. Piller went along with it this time. Strangely.

"How typical. At least tell Mara to make me another cup of coffee on your way!" she shouted hopefully when Gerard rushed out of the room.

 

 

"What's up with the reflective look?" back at home, Bob commented, studying Gerard with inquisitive eyes.

"Blame my therapist," Gerard removed his hand from his mouth to say. "Anyway. Mikey's birthday is in two days."

"I know what you're thinking," Ray chimed in from nowhere and raised a finger, "but Mikey's gonna hate us if we even try to throw him a party. You know that better than I do. God, you guys are so alike, you know that? I think he got the whole I-hate-my-birthday thing from you."

Gerard shook his head disapprovingly and smiled to himself. "No. You're wrong there. I got that from him."

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Gerard, on your right! No—your other right! That's left, Gerard. You know what? Just stay where you are," Mr. Evans threw Gerard an exasperated glance again and wheezed. He brought his notepad to his face and marched off.

Wow, rude. But at least now, Gerard could unwind and watch the other losers run around like puppies. Ha. Bon courage! Gerard was so done.

This class was indubitably stupid. No one ever learned anything, and Gerard had barely attended that class last year. In fact, Gerard had barely set his foot in school last year.

Apparently though, he wasn't the only one Mr. Evans seemed to be 'disappointed' with, since, as soon as he left Gerard, he started yelling at another poor guy at the other end of the field. Call it 'disappointment', Gerard liked to think of it as 'good riddance'. Thank heavens, Mr. Evans was about to dismiss the class.

The middle-aged man sighed deeply in lethargy again—perhaps reflecting back on his last vacation; yearning—and signaled everyone with his whistle.

"Right. That's it for today, I guess. You can all leave. Uh, you, Iero, help me with the cones," he ordered, and Gerard only then seemed to notice how miserable he looked. But then again, every teacher in his school looked overly miserable. Well, apart from jolly, old Mr. Johnson who, honestly, should just go to hell. Nobody needed his high spirits, he might as well head off for Never-Never Land and leave this High School to bask in its misery.

Without taking any time to consider, Gerard slipped through the showers undetected (because who the fuck was he to trust school bathrooms and showers?) and rushed into the changing room, his mission being obvious: get out of there as soon as possible.

He changed his clothes hastily and shoved them into his backpack cursorily. While fumbling for his deodorant, he felt his cell phone buzzing in his pocket. A message from Ray read: we're gonna wait for you and mikey outside. you're coming, right?

He quickly typed out a yeah, coming, and placed his cell phone on the bench beside him.

Finally, taking his deodorant out of his backpack, he quickly sprayed some on his clothes—because who even takes the time to spray it on their skin—and sprinted out of the changing room without glancing back at the shirtless boys.

Setting off down the hallway, he finally inhaled air that felt fairly clean to his lungs. The sense of elation inside him was soon disrupted. Gerard wondered why God hated him so much. He basically sensed Pete Wentz's presence and decided to make the effort to throw him an instantaneous glare. That was obviously a misstep. Pete Wentz took a determined step forward and called his name.

Gerard felt his fury ascend. He turned around and narrowed his eyes at Pete.

"Are you serious? You're not gonna continue to look at me like that, are you?" Pete asked incredulously, then quickly became tentative and took his previous, determined step back.

"I don't like you," Gerard stated bluntly, raising an eyebrow scornfully.

"Yeah, I think you've made that obvious."

Pete looked rather sorrowful and haggard then, but no; Gerard wasn't going to fall for it. He was going to leave before Pete Wentz had time to use his evil spells on him, the malevolent wizard he was. And as the years went by, he looked increasingly with evil intents.

"I am glad. Now, out of my way," Gerard opted to finish it right then, knowing himself.

When it came to Pete Wentz, Gerard had no freaking courtesy; his vexation simply crossed every borderline. He knew that every additional minute standing near that peculiar entity called Pete Wentz was unbearable; his persuasive anger was chanting for him to push him off a building. Things being so, Gerard turned away.

"For God, quit playing big brother!" Pete hollered from afar, his tone indicating aggression. He roused himself to sudden alertness, having realized that he'd fucked up, and lowered his tone. Thankfully, that happened before Gerard had the time to throw blazing fireballs at him. "I g-get it that you're mad. But let bygones be bygones, goddammit!" Pete tried to revive his self-confidence, but it was useless; Gerard had stormed off the building.

He didn't even try to conceal his doleful expression when he was met with his brother outside. Mikey, however, hardly took notice.

"Where were you? We called your cell twice," he asked and Gerard jerked his head up instantly.

"What? I didn't—" searching his pockets, Gerard frowned. "Shit, I must have left it in the locker rooms. You guys go ahead, I'll meet you home."

Oh, and now he had to go all the way back. Marvelous. Once he'd caught a few affirmative nods from his friends, he walked off.

He passed the hallway where his last face-off with Pete had taken place as fast as he could, and once he was in front of the locker room, he clamped his hand down on the door handle, hoping to every deity he was somewhat familiar with that the door wouldn't be locked. All in all, he wasn't at all content with the idea of him having to ask Mr. Evans for the keys. Honestly, he'd rather just run ten laps and that was very uncommon, coming from him.

Realizing that he was just wasting time by standing there and not opening the door, he pushed it lightly, pacified when the empty room was revealed.

Oh, thank God.

Wait—did he really think that the room was empty? Oh, scratch that, Gerard's luck doesn't propose any kind of chances like those. No.

The room wasn't empty, but at least he had already detected where his cell phone was, alright. His eyes and the person's they were met with, went spontaneously wide as the sweet relief that hardly had time to overlap him melted away. A dreadful sensation filled his chest.

The room wasn't empty. Well, what do you know, Frank Iero was there.

That wasn't what caused Gerard to jump back. In surprise, confusion, and, well, shock he stepped back, because fuck, the guy in the room was shirtless, but he was also covered in bruises and purple spots that contrasted on his pale skin. And Gerard didn't know what to think; he froze and so did Frank, but Frank also seemed to have turned a shade of unhealthy, ashen white.

And as awful pictures and awful concepts rose to Gerard's mind, the eerie silence in the changing room brought chills down his spine. Ominous thoughts, awful concepts, and the unsettling silence; all that uncannily resembled that nightmarish situation Gerard wished he'd never have to witness. But that's Gerard's life; full of surprises.

Furthermore, he also had to do something to cool things a bit, because Frank was staring at him blankly, as white as a bed sheet and as incapable of letting a word out as a fish. Stifling.

"What the—" was the only thing Gerard was capable of uttering—which was supposed to break the silence, but only made it worse because Frank did not even flinch. Concepts; Gerard's mind started to flood with concepts.

The first thing that came to his mind was that Frank had fallen as a child and was severely injured—which didn't explain the current state he was in at all. Gerard could tell some recent wounds apart, even from that far of a distance. So, scratch that theory.

It was futile just to imagine because, for all Gerard knew, Frank could have been bullied in the last school he went to, which would also explain why he had to change in his last year and why he wasn't talking to anyone. But that also didn't make any sense, because an entire summer had passed and, surely, most of the wounds would've healed.

Perhaps Gerard should just take his damn cell phone and get the fuck out, because, fucking hell, the situation wasn't progressing, and he just felt dumb and responsible for dragging Frank along into that awkward situation, too.

Then it suddenly hit him, like a slap in the face. Had Frank done this to himself?

The idea of self-harm sickened Gerard. He didn't get it.

"Why?" his voice wavered. Frank all of a sudden winced, confused.

"I didn't do this to myself!" he exclaimed defensively, knowing what was going through Gerard's mind and what he'd accused him of. "I didn't do this."

Okay, now Gerard's mind was completely at loss. If he didn't do this to himself, then who did?

"Who did?" he asked stupidly. Thereupon, Frank seemed to be tearing up and, even worse, he was trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up. Gerard prompted, by taking a step forward and looking at him with great concern, so Frank did speak but Gerard didn't like it at all.

"Goddammit, you—M-my father," Frank said and quickly dropped his eyes to the floor.

Gerard's mind went entirely blank. Of course, he told himself, stupid. He could've saved himself if he had made the intellectual effort to think rationally. Of course, domestic violence was more common than self-harm. Or was it? Should Gerard really believe Frank?

Frank looked like life was swiped away from him.

Most self-harm victims would try and conceal it, right? Maybe Gerard should go back on his bullying theory. Though not at all pleasant to think about, knowing that Frank wouldn't have to go through it anymore would be sort of reassuring.

"Fuck," Frank uttered and frowned, like he was having an inner conversation with himself, and Gerard saw the frightened look fading away from his face. He seemed to be filling with all kinds of emotions right then.

Gerard observed as reluctance, spite, and anger all passed away from Frank's face, and before he knew it, before he was even able to act; the guy had launched himself at Gerard and pushed him up against the wall behind, aggressively grabbing him by the neck of his shirt. And okay, it was Gerard's turn to look all frighten, because he was very well aware of the guy's verbal insulting capability, but when it came to the physical part, he had no idea and all rights to be scared.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you," Frank threatened, tightening his grip and glowering at Gerard who tried to breathe steadily. Even though Frank had raised his voice at him, and was literally gripping him from the neck of his shirt; despite his attempt to hide it, Gerard could tell that he was on the verge of breaking down. Frank's grip tightened reflexively.

Gerard couldn't conceive what he'd done to come to this situation and simply couldn't bring himself to at that moment. He wasn't really afraid of Frank gripping him anymore. What's the worst that could happen? Well, Frank could hit him, alright, but that didn't sound that bad. Plus, Frank didn't look like he had much fortitude in him, in order to physically hit Gerard. His fists had eased a bit, his head was bowed and his eyes looked sparkly, sort of glassy.

Gerard couldn't help but focus his eyes upon on a particular recent-looking cut on Frank's neck, while a series of dubious voices inside his head told him not to reach out and touch it. But he reached out and touched it. Hell, his impulses were going to lead him to death one day.

Frank lifted his chin up, alarmed, and Gerard, having realized what he'd done, snatched his hand back and gulped.

"Um," he tried to say something, regret flushing through his eyes. He couldn't imagine and he didn't want to imagine. Fuck, couldn't Frank just be another obnoxious asshole?

Gerard felt his cheeks burning, but now he didn't want to leave anymore. Instead, his mind guided him to stay and talk to Frank who, not long ago, was seeking entertainment in offending Gerard. His mind often comes to ridiculous ideas like these. God, how much life did he have ahead of him? What, two years at most?

He hardly cared anymore about Frank's insults, he had had worse anyway. Everything in the interests of himself was dispelled right then. Fuck everything. Mikey was going to be sorta mad about the delay, but whatever. Gerard couldn't run off now, it would be unethical and heartless of him.

Belatedly, he noticed that Frank had burst into tears.

Ignoring the fact that he was really bad at comforting, he reached out and stroked Frank's hair, hoping to provide some consolation. He could feel the awkwardness level increase.

"Go away," Frank cried out and pushed Gerard away forcefully. He hid his face in his hands, muttering to himself and letting out chocked sobs. "Fuck. I fucked up. God, I fucked up!"

Gerard had no idea why this was happening, why Frank had broken down right then, and quite honestly, he found himself unable to ask. He didn't question the situation he'd gotten himself into anymore; he had one goal and that was to help—whatever that meant.

Frank sank to his knees, snatching quick breaths. "Just go away," he said, sort of pleadingly.

Yet that was a slight push. Somehow, Gerard was convulsed and all the hesitation was ripped out of him. He crouched down on his knees and set his hand on Frank's shoulder. Gerard was ready to wrap his arms around him, but strangely, Frank flung himself in his embrace first.

He, somehow, let Gerard hold him there.

"I-it's gonna be okay. D-don't worry," Gerard reassured, shoulders still slightly hunched in surprise that Frank had let him hold him.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm so—" a muffled whimper interrupted Frank.

"Everything's gonna be okay," Gerard went on.

Overall, Gerard doubted that he was any reassuring, but he went on trying with a tiny glimpse of hope that he was doing some good. He felt like he was reprieved or something, when Frank stopped shaking like he was being electrified. His sobs gradually ceased.

And still, Gerard carried on and spoke quiet, soothing sounds, a bunch of hushed 'shh's and sometimes added a short 'it's okay' just to fill in the silence that surrounded them—but stopped doing so, eventually, and so the silence was convened.

It was only when Frank drew back and tucked his knees up to his chest that Gerard wanted to propose a perhaps-not-so-good-idea-after-all.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't get the response he was expecting; Frank sniffed. It was pretty crushing, but he didn't seem to give up. He didn't want to leave Frank like this, he looked like his soul was ripped out of him, sitting there, eyes looking at precisely nothing.

He looked pretty dead to Gerard.

"Hey, um," Gerard hesitated more to this, and brought his knees up to his chest, "it's okay if you don't wanna talk about it...or anything at all. But do you, uh, I don't know, want to go out? I could show you around since you're new and, uh, there's a pretty cool place we can get free ice cream. Do you like ice cream? We don't have to talk about anything, if you don't want to, it's okay."

He slightly tilted his head to the side to look at Frank, and thank God, he caught Frank's mouth as it struck as an approximation of a smile. Frank removed his hand from his mouth, glanced at Gerard slowly, and let the coy smile that was playing on his lips be revealed in utter clarity.

"Ice cream?" he laughed incredulously, and okay, that made Gerard's heart flutter. Yeah, a smile was reassuring and all, but his laugh, God, his laugh was brilliant.

"Yeah," Gerard responded, his mouth twitching into a grin, "yeah, ice cream."

"Wow, man, you've really got me there," Frank rubbed his puffy eyes. Gerard giggled at his sarcasm. He took Frank's standing up as an affirmative answer, and perhaps got too excited, as he sprang up from the floor to his feet and intently watched Frank getting dressed, which was no way creepy, okay, he was just waiting for him.

Well, he was evidently staring and grinning like an idiot, but he was saved in the situation, since Frank was too busy to notice him.

***

"A playground?" Frank wondered aloud and copied Gerard as he sat on a swing. "Thanks for the ice cream, by the way, it's great."

Gerard brushed the last sentence aside. "It's not just a playground. Well. I mean, it is now, but it didn't use to be just this."

Frank's eyebrows furrowed, and he let out an inadvertent huff, examining the place before him. It looked deserted and dismal. Forgotten about.

"No, really," Gerard addressed earnestly, "there was this abandoned mansion, see, right there. My brother and I used to play haunted house there, it was sick. And then, they had like, these giant logs for campfire and we roasted marshmallows there and got free ice cream off James' parlor since then. Awesome memories, man."

"And how come all that's left of it is a demolished playground?" Frank asked.

"Because this town sucks, and they had to knock the whole thing down, eventually. People just stopped coming here. There wasn't much to do after that. In fact, there's still nothing to do here, this town's pretty darn boring. Pretty dead."

"Hell. I'll say," Frank nodded slowly in agreement. "You'd think that things are better downtown, but nah."

"You've been elsewhere?" Gerard tilted his head toward Frank, interested.

"Yeah," Frank nodded, finishing up his ice cream, "I've changed so many schools, I can't even remember how many. People were always the same, though. And the surroundings change, alright, but the misery they emit doesn't cease to exist. It tuckers you out after a while. You can't always ignore it."

Despite not having as empiric memories as Frank, Gerard could comprehend. Frank proceeded to talk zealously of other places, and Gerard smiled blithely, listening to the picturesque descriptions he made. It sort of mentally wafted him away from that town to another. Somewhere exquisitely different. And no, that was not Mr. Johnson's Utopian universe.

Ms. Way's words echoed in Gerard's head all of a sudden then; he suddenly remembered, "Hey, I've heard you're from Belleville, is that right?"

Frank rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yeah. I still lived there four years ago, actually."

"I'm from Belleville, too. But we moved here ten years ago." And as they kept talking, swinging back and forth on the swings, Gerard found himself hesitant to ask, because he didn't want to pry, but he had to pry. He kind of cared, really.

It wasn't any of his curiosity interfering; he did this out of simple concern. He wondered if there was something he could do to address the issue, because he cared.

But perhaps he didn't want to show that just yet. Perhaps Frank didn't trust him much at all and, honestly, he had every right to. Gerard wouldn't trust a person he'd just met, either. He could imagine the subject resurfacing soon again, though.

Right then, however, he was quite content with Frank's company. Rocking back and forth on the creaky, rusty swings, he felt like he was going to implode every time he made Frank laugh, because there was simply something about that laugh that sent a beam of warm light, on that cloudy September day.

Funny how it didn't rain, really. From what Gerard recalled, it rained quite frequently in August and September last year. But that day was just cloudy and Gerard lived for cloudy autumn days.

He sat up instantly, thinking he'd heard wrong, but he hadn't heard wrong; Frank seemed to have approached the subject himself.

"—But we, or rather I live here now, 'cause he's barely around. He rarely shows up on weekends to check on the house and the money, or whatever, and see if I'm still alive. He doesn't want the law after him, I guess? I don't know, I'm completely uninformed on the subject—God, why am I even telling you this?"

"No, it's okay, I won't tell anyone," Gerard said cautiously, "unless you want me to. You can trust me, but if you don't want to, I understand."

Frank looked around, musing. "Don't...tell anyone. Please. Ugh, no way this is going to end well. I tried before..."

And from Gerard's perspective, Frank sounded so certain. In fact, too certain, it frightened him.

"I am not going to, if that's what you want. Just—if you need anything, I—" Gerard couldn't finish, he didn't like how this felt; he didn't want to offer his help. He was rather going to force Frank to accept help...just in a more subtle way. Because this certainly didn't feel good.

"Thanks. But I'm fine for now. I think."

And that was exactly why Gerard didn't like this; Frank could very easily dismiss his help like that. It could be out of politeness, but it could also be out of plain guilt, pestering Frank right then, and Gerard would never know.

He contemplated telling Frank to come by his house. Gerard wasn't a terrific host, and he most definitely wasn't good at sleepovers, but he could try. As absurd as it would sound.

"This will sound weird, but," he began, and thinking it was too late then, he continued, "if you're not busy today, you could come by my house? I don't know, we could maybe play some video games if you'd like, or maybe just watch a movie."

He held himself back strongly on adding 'because I don't want to leave you like this' because, no, that would sound weird—well, weirder—and Frank could be easily offended. Who knows.

Frank brought his hand to his mouth and began gnawing on his thumb, looking dubious. "I'm not really comfortable with...going to your house. It's not you, or anything, it's just that it's something I don't do that often. Visiting other peoples' houses, I mean. It kind of...makes me anxious, I guess."

Gerard lowered his head, a series of voices in his head calling him stupid, and perhaps they were right because, fuck, why would he even ask that? What did he expect? Frank seemed like a really introverted person. Plus, who would even trust a guy they'd just met?

"But you could come over to my house if you want," Frank suggested suddenly, and Gerard instantly jerked his head up, a rush of hope flushing through him. And though at the back of his mind he doubted it was a good idea, he wouldn't refuse. He couldn't. He was far more than happy not to get rejected.

The wind blew Frank's hair away from his face. He fixed his gaze on the empty house lot. Gerard did so too, only that, due to his childhood reminiscences, the scenery caused a melancholic feeling to revisit him.

"The house is mostly empty, anyway. I basically live by myself," Frank mumbled, looking wistful.

And perhaps that surpassed the level of melancholy that place gave Gerard. Perhaps that made Gerard feel so sad, that temptation started to approach him. Perhaps he wanted to do something to change that.

Perhaps he could change that.


	5. Chapter 5

Did Gerard feel bad to pass up his friends? Yes. Would he still do it? Of course.

He texted Ray a quick excuse, omitting to explain how and where he was, and by all means, declined all his calls. Nevertheless, as soon as he closed his phone and placed it in his pocket, it buzzed again, causing him to sigh exaggeratedly, as if Ray was there to hear him.

It didn't take Gerard too long to start doubting his actions. Maybe he was being a bit imprudent. It was a bit foolish of him to accept such an offer as Frank's. For all he knew—or rather didn't know, because he basically knew nothing about Frank—the guy could very well be a serial killer, trying to lure Gerard into his hidden, underground lair. 

Though Gerard was almost definitely sure that wasn't true because, stating out the obvious; Frank didn't look like a homicidal fuck at all—he was even blushing right then. And murderers don't blush, as far as Gerard's aware.

Gerard looked around, confused. Although he'd lived quite a long time in this town, the road and the neighborhood they were walking down to wasn't stored anywhere in his recollections. It was different, compared to the rest of the town.

Fancy houses were scattered all over the place; they reminded Gerard of American dream homes that are shown in every high school drama movie. You know. The ones that give you the wrong idea about high school.

His eyes roved around in fascination. Something felt off. Something, but Gerard couldn't tell.

"I know what you're wondering. Everything looks so fake, huh?" Frank scoffed, interjecting Gerard's thinking.

"It does?" Gerard wondered aloud, referring to himself rather than Frank. He wasn't sure about his own opinion at all, to be candid. The place looked misleadingly welcoming.

"Come on, look around. Everything looks like it's made out of plastic. Manufactured, shiny, fragile plastic. God, I hate this place," Frank said, repulse evident in his tone. However, right when Gerard was about to speak, Frank's gaze that was fixed upon something in particular across the street, flicked away and his eyes grew wide.

He cleared his throat and Gerard's eyebrows met in perplexity. Well, perhaps if he had noticed the guy yelling from across the street sooner, he wouldn't be as confused. 

"Hey, Fred, it's Iero's faggot son again! Quick, come look!"

Gerard picked up on Frank's pace quickening.

He considered maybe raising a question on the ongoing occurrence, but the sound of rapid footsteps approaching and a hand reaching out to grab Frank by the shoulder silenced him. Frank turned around and Gerard copied him hesitantly.

Facing him, there was a tall, relatively slim guy with blond, mid-length hair, wearing blue ripped jeans. The wide, malicious grin on his face strongly reminded Gerard of a Disney villain. And right next to him, the dude that had grabbed Frank by the shoulder was short and had blond, spiky hair, laden with tons of gel that made it look all greasy and rough. 

They both didn't look older than seventeen.

Gerard decided he didn't like them. Both of them provided an uncommon kind of aura—the vitriolic kind that would give you headaches.

"Ah now, what do we have here? Looks like little Frankie finally brought his boyfriend over for us to meet! At last," Disney-villain-guy teased loudly. "And I thought you shut us out. You hurt my feelings, little cousin."

"Good grief," Frank muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. "Fuck off, Fred." He made an attempt to edge past them, but Fred-guy grabbed him by the elbow with a disapproving 'nuh-uh'.

"Tsk tsk," the other guy made a noise with his mouth, pretending to look hurt. "Language. That's not how we treat family, is it, cousin? Dan, do you think we deserve this for being so nice?" 

"Oh, come on," Frank sighed in exasperation. "Would you two just quit it? Would you be so kind and fuck off?" 

"Nah. Why don't you introduce us to your boyfriend instead?" the so-called Dan smirked slightly and Gerard froze as they both turned their attention to him. 

Frank looked anxiously between all of them, especially concentrating on how nervous Gerard looked. He stepped forward and his frown evaporated into a wrathful glare, directed at his cousins.

"Quit it. He's not my boyfriend. Now if you'll excuse us, Fred and Dan,"  he said eventually and with a nod, signaled Gerard to follow him.

Gerard was over than glad that they weren't stopped this time, despite the comments that were thrown from behind, about how they should use condoms and something about Frank being a 'pathetic virgin', a loser, or something along those lines. Whatever. It didn't really affect Gerard. Other than annoy him because that was happening to Frank, it only confused him.

After a while, he decided to start filling in some blanks, "You don't really like them, do you?"

Frank snickered. "Was I being too obvious?" 

"Can't blame you."

"Man, they're annoying. They keep calling me names, and they don't even elaborate on it," Frank scowled down at the sidewalk, musing. "They've never told me why they keep calling me a loser, like, I've never had a clarification."

"I-I don't think you're a loser at all...If my opinion matters?" Gerard blurted out, kind of not how he wanted. Oh well, if Frank wasn't crept out previously, now he definitely must be. Perhaps if Gerard added something to sound less lame and more convincing? "I mean, dude, you have piercings! How cool is that?"

A smile twitched on Frank's lips, making Gerard feel triumphant. "You like them?" he asked in a hopeful tone, glancing sideways at Gerard.

"Fuck yeah! I always wanted one, but I'm afraid that if a needle touches my skin, I might actually die."

"Afraid of needles, huh?"

"Deadly."

Frank giggled heartily and rifled his backpack for his keys. He oh-so-casually approached a fancy house that was painted a nice shade of midnight-blue. As though it wasn't a fancy house painted a nice shade of midnight-blue.

It looked  _flawless_  to Gerard. Too flawless. Everything seemed to be complimenting everything. Like, every small detail had a purpose, a reason to exist. That faultlessness was too unsatisfying and unsettling, for some reason. 

It felt like somebody was trying to hide something behind that perfect household. Conceal something.

Frank unlocked and pushed the door open.

And as though everything was made out of fragile porcelain, Gerard was too hesitant to take a step forward. The house, from what he had seen so far, seemed to have three and only three colors; blue, black, and gray. It was kind of irritating, actually. He looked to his right.

"That's the living room," Frank pointed to the room and leaned forward, pointing to a door inside, "dining room's over there, but it's always locked. I'm not allowed to go in." Gerard didn't speak, he just stared as Frank rocked back and forth on his heels and then, turned around to show the other room. "Kitchen," he said, leaning against the door-frame.

Of course, the kitchen had three colors, too, Gerard thought disappointed at the lack of it. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for a simple, small, overlooked detail and spotted a total of exactly none. Well, apart from what was presumably an accident; a mess formed on the kitchen floor, involving broken glass and a red liquid that had formed a puddle around it. 

Frank looked nervous for a moment. "Oh, sorry. Uh, that's wine. I-I'll clean that up later." He looked sullenly at the kitchen table, brushing his fingers on the shiny surface in circling motions, musing, and said, "Well, I can't show you the rest of the house since I don't have the keys. But I can show you my room?"

Gerard nodded wildly and scurried after Frank down the stairs. He frowned. This really baffled him. More so did the fact that Frank didn't have the keys to the rest of the house. Like, what the hell did that mean? If the dining room and the living room was downstairs, then what on earth could be upstairs? Dr. Frank-N-Furter's lab or something?

"The basement?" Gerard assumed aloud when he realized where Frank was heading to.

"Yep," Frank kicked the door open with his foot, revealing a dark room until he turned the lights on. He snickered, "Darn straight. This is my kingdom."

Okay, Gerard maybe was shocked to discover that Frank's room wasn't anything like the rest of the house, but it also kind of comforted him. He didn't really enjoy the rest of the porcelain chateau, it stressed him out too much. 

Frank's room was...well, certainly different. The floor tiles creaked, the walls were not painted, the one and only window was too small and somehow it all just felt more...human. It radiated a sort of cozy feeling the rest of the house didn't. Though a small basement was all it was, it had this welcoming aesthetic to it. With its cool, retro TV set, balanced on top of a coffee table, and its faded-out red couch, and the posters that were unevenly attached with scotch-tape on the wall, and strewn with stacks of comics, books, and DVDs; it kind of resembled Gerard's room, actually.

Frank had thrown himself onto the couch, his bag tossed across the other side of the room.

"I like it," Gerard announced, smiling at the impressive collection of posters on the walls, "it's very..."

"Different compared to the rest of the house? Dusty? A mess? Yep, that's my room," Frank finished for him. His smile started fading out.

Slowly but eventually, his expression was replaced with an apologetic look, because maybe, just maybe, he'd gone too far this time. Maybe he should've punched Gerard in the face and ran off when they met each other in the locker rooms, when he had the chance to. In all honesty, he didn't understand why he hadn't.

Maybe it was all this human-interaction-deprivation doing this to him, or something. He hadn't felt like this in such a long time, he'd almost forgotten how it did feel. Being with another person.

"Frank? Uh, dude, are you okay? You're really pale?"

Frank huffed out a laugh, once he was pulled into reality again. "Dude, I'm always pale," he proclaimed, "but yeah, I'm fine. Just. I'm sorry about today, I don't know what came over me earlier."

"Don't apologize. For God," Gerard rolled his eyes and returned to his scanning for bands he recognized on Frank's wall, "you didn't sin and I'm no Pope you'd beg for forgiveness. Think about what you'd do. You'd stay and talk to me too, wouldn't you? You'd do the same thing for another person. Right? Oh my God, dude! You like Bon Jovi?! Dude, those are some sick—"

But Frank wasn't listening after that. He found himself in this perpetual state he often was in; drowning in his own thoughts. Because would he really do the same for Gerard? Or better asked; would he ever do _anything_  for anyone? Because at this point in his life, Frank Iero was endeavoring to just survive and without any appropriate context given, perhaps he'd seem rather selfish to others. 

But he wasn't selfish, he'd determined. He was curious. And okay, he knew that  _'_ curiosity killed the cat' and stuff, but whatever. Frank knew that he had put his life in danger. Well, fortunately though, he wasn't just curious, unlike the cat that was killed. He was brimming with determination and build-up fury, and his only hope was that those two would fight back whoever and whatever attempted to strike.

He was basically basing his whole existence on hope, and that's pretty foolish, alright, but Frank Iero tended to be pretty foolish, at times. Like, accepting whatever consequences this would bring along, despite not having even the slightest idea of what those could be, was pretty foolish of him.

But Frank, despite what people thought, Frank had a good reason not to leave that house yet.

"Hmm?" he finally managed to drag himself out of that deep pit of troubling thoughts and turn his attention to the human in his room again. 

"Nothing, I just think your collection of horror movies is—oh man, I love The Horror of Dracula!"

"Hmphhh," he let an inhuman noise in surprise, "I like you, alright. It's like, the best Dracula movie. Have you seen Nosferatu? Nosferatu scared the shit out of me as a kid but I love it."

"Oh my god," Gerard uttered, jaw close to dropping, "I thought I was weird for liking that movie! It's so old and the fact that it's a silent film makes it so freaking...horrifying! But awesome horrifying, you get me?"

"That's the beauty of it," Frank pursed his lips and then shrugged. Neither of them found the idea of staying indoors very pleasant. Gerard, well, he felt the need to be careful with each step, and Frank...Frank never liked staying in. He felt like he was being suffocated, he needed to go out. "We can watch it later if you want and go outside now," he suggested hopefully.

Gerard huffed incredulously. "Hell yeah."

***

Somehow, Gerard found himself explaining about the whole Pete-drama to Frank, and to be frank (no pun intended), he didn't know why he'd done it. It wasn't like Frank could do anything about it, anyway. Right then, when they were walking up a hill of the great unknown. 

He told him about how, after him and Pete had had their little quarrel in middle-school, Pete went around spewing nonsense; telling the world that Gerard had slept with him. In fucking middle-school. And the most annoying thing about that was the fact that the school had believed that, at the time. He also told him about how Brendon had tried to extend and beef up the rumor by saying that Gerard was a veteran porn star, which, thank God, the high-school _some_ basic sense to distinguish the lie.

"People, huh? That's all they do, spread rumors," Frank said. "How did you guys make up, then?"

"We sorta still haven't. I mean, I'm the one still putting off, but I have my reasons— "Gerard stopped talking, he was lost in what was presented before him. The view. 

He tried hard to identify the place around them but couldn't, for the life of him. It was strange; he'd lived in that goddamned town for longer than Frank, yet he'd never been anywhere special in the town.

He wasn't showing Frank around. Quite the opposite was happening here, not that he'd complain. Wherever they were, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Maybe his legs didn't really appreciate walking up that hill, previously, but his eyes definitely loved the view. 

The curvy roads couldn't be seen anymore, instead, old (and abandoned, Gerard reckoned) houses had taken their place. He couldn't count how many right then, he was too absorbed in the scenery. Some of them were demolished, but that didn't ruin the picture. Like a creepy-abandoned village. 

Gerard kinda wished he could live there. 

September wind blew his hair away from his face as his ears focused on the sound of gust and Frank's careful footsteps. He wondered why they sounded so far-off. Wasn't Frank next to him, like, two seconds ago?

Well, seemingly not. Frank was leaning against one of the small houses, one hand in his pocket, one eyebrow raised, and he was even whistling. 

Gerard's eyebrow rose; Frank looked proud of whatever he'd concocted in his mind.

"What?" Gerard realized Frank had to strain to hear him from that distance, so he drew nearer and rephrased: "what are you doing?"

Frank tilted his head to give Gerard a suspicious-looking smirk and then proceeded...climbing up a nearby tree. Gerard observed, puzzled but intrigued, as Frank was figuring out where to put his foot next.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Frank managed to say, pausing his gasps for air. Gerard wondered if he should even make the effort to reply to that. 

"Well," he began, eyes drifting away from the insane-gone Frank that was almost as high as the small house, which wasn't  _that_ high, but still, it was relatively high, "it looks like you're onto something that won't be any goo—" and he stopped there, because when he looked back at Frank, the guy was standing on top of the house, rubbing his palms against each other to clean off any dirt. 

He stared triumphantly at Gerard, like a superhero. Not only that; he then seemed to expect something of Gerard as he wiped that triumph off his face and knelt down. He gestured him to come closer, not that that would happen, of course.

"I'll help you up. Here, take my hand," he offered, completely sweeping Gerard's inquisitive face under a rug. Gerard laughed exaggeratedly, laughter dripping with irony. Okay, Frank kinda reminded him of Aladdin right there, all charming and stuff, but Gerard  _wasn't_ going to get up there. Frank rolled his eyes. "You're not going to fall, I promise. Now come on!" 

Frank was waiting for him there with his hand extended like Aladdin, recruiting him by saying stuff like: "would you kindly do me the favor of getting your ass up here?" and making Gerard laugh to such an extent that he had to give in. 

He sighed and dawdled on closer, uncertain.

Since he hadn't reached the right height to grab Frank's hand, he stepped on a few low tree branches that looked somewhat—hopefully were—stable, and once possible, he took hold of Frank's extended palm.

"See, now, that's wasn't so hard," Frank told him, which Gerard thought was completely unnecessary since he wasn't done climbing up the tree  _yet._

He then, with a swift jump, got past the gap between the house and the tree, and with Frank hauling him to his feet, he felt pretty pleased with himself at the accomplishment of getting up there. Moreover, he felt fascinated by the sky up there.

Frank let go of his hand and made himself comfortable down on the brick roof, patting the space next to him and requesting of Gerard to do the same, which he did.

Admiring the view, Gerard actually started admitting that it was worth the effort.

Regret flushed through Frank's eyes, right then. Well, actually, regret was flushing through Frank's eyes throughout the whole walk to there, too, but Gerard hadn't really noticed.

"Hey, man, I-I am really sorry. For making fun of you and, uh, calling you names the other day. Think we can keep that behind?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it, 's cool," Gerard reassured, not looking at troubled Frank. "Dude, it's fine. There's much worse. Just promise me that you won't make up a rumor about me being a porn star and we're fine, okay?"

"Ridiculous, that guy. Anyway. I'm sorry. I just felt alone and insulting was the closest I could ever come with a person."

Gerard highly doubted that. It was not true and well, he was living proof of it. Those hours they've spent together so far were proof. And even more, he genuinely started to like the guy. 

"I guess you're wrong. Look at you right now, you're not insulting me," Gerard smiled, raising a finger to indicate having a point. "What I don't understand is how you went on like that. How did you, y'know, keep it in for so long? Other people at school, they must have seen it."

Even though it took Frank some time to get what Gerard was talking about, he caught on eventually.

"Many people at school did," he corrected Gerard and bit his lip, "but, uh, no one ever really cared, I guess?"

Gerard stared blankly into Frank's eyes, getting lost for a moment. Frank hesitated but, in the end, rotated his neck to look back at Gerard. Likewise, he stared blankly, and right then, perhaps he felt the wearisome, everyday regret slip out of him. 

Not that he thought he'd actually done something right for once in his life. Ha. No. But for that quick moment, he felt like he was wrenching free out of all pain and his stifling thoughts.

They broke the intense staring together, looking away sheepishly and clearing their throats as if air was choking them. Eventually, they craned their necks up to focus on the mixed-colored sky. 

Gerard thought it resembled a mess. A beautiful mess. Like an artist had had a mental breakdown right there and threw his palette unintentionally onto the canvas, thus creating that masterpiece. A picture of a mustached man rose to his mind; he was sitting on a paint-splotched stool, right after he'd calmed down from his breakdown.

Gerard looked up at the sky again.

He didn't exactly concur with the golden color the artist had thrown in there, but the purplish part concealed it well. He wondered if a cotton ball dipped in paint and glitter would look like the clouds in the sky. God, his thinking really resembled Mikey's, he thought. Only Mikey would think of something so artsy-crafty like that. He spent quite a lot of time thinking about his friends then.

It had just occurred to him; he felt bad for turning down his friends. But then he glanced at Frank, reconsidering. And then at the sky, and then Frank again, and fuck, he was so confused. What was he even doing? 

And most importantly, why had the sky turned into a bluer shade? When did that happen? Was he lost in thought again?

"Breathtaking," Frank half-whispered.

"It's almost blue now," Gerard commented, only to later notice how greedy that must've sounded.

"It's a blue sunset," Frank announced, sounding like he knew he was talking about. Well, Gerard most definitely didn't know what Frank was talking about.

The only thing that he could think of was Mikey mentioning sunsets in Mars being blue that one time, and surely Frank hadn't meant that. And the thought of Mikey again dragged him down into the nether-pit of remorse.

Frank glanced at him and realized how he'd confused Gerard.

"Oh, I don't know what that is, either," he began, smiling, "it's a code-word my mom made up for something. She used to say that blue sunsets are really hard to find, but they also made her emotional because, well, they're hard to find? I don't know, I don't remember much. I think she used that word to describe people."

Of course, it took Frank long enough to realize what he'd just blurted out, and of course, it was too late when he did.

He heard Gerard huff out a laugh.

"A blue sunset," Gerard repeated, just to see how that sounded coming from his tongue. He loved it when people would make up their own words, he did that quite frequently too. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, "Where's your mom now?"

And perhaps he shouldn't have asked that. 

Okay, he _really_  shouldn't have asked that. 

Okay, he deserved the national award for Superior Idiot for asking that. Jesus.

Frank didn't move his eyes, causing Gerard to call his name, not to prompt or anything, but just to check if he's okay. He didn't look okay at all.

"Frank?"

"I-" Frank shook his head, eyes suddenly darting around  _everywhere_  anxiously, "I don't know."

He looked into Gerard's eyes. The sincerity Gerard read off Frank's face right then was dreadfully too much _._


	6. Chapter 6

They didn't speak much at all after Frank's declaration. Gerard held back on thinking it over and over again, so, instead, he gazed at the sunset hungrily, and if Frank had turned to look at his face, he'd probably agree; Gerard looked like he was on drugs. 

The now dark-blue sky stared at them overhead, and eventually, Frank rightly suggested it was time to head back. Well, thank heavens, because it wouldn't even cross Gerard's preoccupied mind that maybe it was getting pretty late.

"I'm surprised the roof didn't cave in, honestly," he told Frank, standing up carefully. 

"Judging by the fact that I'm still in one piece, the roof didn't ever cave in. The roof won't ever cave in. What? I do this a lot, trust me."

"You do this a lot? What, climb on top of stranger's houses?" Gerard mocked and wondered if one day, he'd wake up to find Frank on his roof. What a vampire.

"It's really not that big of a deal. The houses are abandoned, anyway, it's not like we can get in trouble," Frank addressed and gestured for Gerard to come closer when he seemed to have found a way to get down.

"Man," Gerard let out an extended sigh. "I wanted to get in trouble." 

"You did, huh?" Frank huffed. "Then stick around and I'll see what I can do."

 

 

On the way back to Frank's house, they couldn't be more sluggish. They plodded onward with halting steps, as if done intentionally. Well, to be honest, Gerard was kind of doing it intentionally. He didn't want to head home yet. 

It was fun, babbling about horror movies and music with Frank. And when they finally got to Frank's, it was indeed late.

The first thing Gerard did was open his cell phone to read the text he'd received from his mother.

_'Call me ASAP. SOS.'_

He literally scoffed, wondering what it was about and then thought, whatever, three hours have passed since she sent it. Wow, three hours, huh? He should probably start heading back home soon.

Frank interrupted his musing, approaching with two plates of pizza he'd promised earlier to Gerard. 

"Well," he paused to glance at the clock and mull over the various possibilities, "looks like you're stayin'. Except if you want to wander around the streets of this eerie town at...oh, look, it's twelve sharp! Midnight, Cinderella." He nudged Gerard on the shoulder. 

Gerard's nose crinkled. "Yeah, I don't really like the sound of wandering around...looks like we're gonna spend the night together then."

"Not gonna lie," Frank put the plates down on the small coffee table and raised a finger, "that sounded extremely sexual."

"Oh, piss off," Gerard laughed and waved Frank off. "Hey, I can tell awful-horrifying ghost stories! Wanna hear one?"

One an a half hour later, after they'd finished watching Nosferatu and Frank had let Gerard know that his stories couldn't scare a single shadow, Gerard announced he was in for another round of horror and vampires, so Frank put The Horror of Dracula on. However, Gerard had lost interest in the movie halfway through. 

Watching Frank's expression gradually changing was fascinating. How his nose wrinkled and his eyebrows furrowed, but he kept wickedly smiling when gory action was happening on the screen.

And okay, Gerard wasn't ogling, alright? Perhaps it looked like he was ogling, but he wasn't. It wasn't a lustful stare, you see. He was just...staring and beaming?

He attempted to small-talk, after a while. Stop his staring maybe.

"So, new school, huh? How do you like the shit hole?"

"Well," Frank snickered, "it's terrible. I'm sorry if I offend you. I don't know if it's just me but..."

"Nah, man. I get you," Gerard confirmed with no doubt in his mind. "Did anyone throw food at you in the cafeteria?"

"That was nothing! The first day was one of the worst I've ever had; a guy took my school-map and tore it to pieces, so I had no idea where to go. I went back to the secretary, and the lady wasn't really pleased to see me again, so she told me to follow some guy. _Some_  guy," Frank emphasized, rolling his eyes.

Gerard rose an eyebrow and repeated, "Some guy?"

"Yeah, I had the pleasure to meet that Brendon-guy. You can imagine how that went," he said and Gerard sympathized from the bottom of his heart, "not cool. He and his gang, fucking evil Powerpuff Girls or whatever, they threw my stuff out the window."

"These guys...Hey—what about the teachers? God, don't tell me you like Mr. Johnson."

"Are you kidding me?" Frank huffed disbelievingly, wrapping his arms around himself when he felt the creepy-crawly sensation on his back recur. "Ugh. At least, I had a good laugh with him, I think he's terrified of me now. Mrs. Henson is worse—that malicious bitch hates me."

A smirk flickered back onto Gerard's face, "She hands out detention slips like they're brochures. I got one for 'wearing an ugly shirt' once. What was yours for?"

"Obscene language, I guess. I had a little fight with her grandson, Travis, but I didn't know he was her grandson, I swear. What the fuck, how did she reason yours? Like, did she straight-off admit she didn't like your shirt?"

Gerard laughed awkwardly and waved it off, proceeding to ask Frank, "What happened with Travis?"

"Long story," Frank shrugged, "but I really don't get why I got detention and he didn't. The guy basically cursed like a freaking rapper. I don't understand shit that's going on in that school, everything seems so complicated. And since I've lost my map and schedule, and nobody's nice enough to show me around...I still don't know shit."

Gerard decided to propose an idea, bluntly. "Hey, I could show you around! That would help the next time you try insulting someone."

"So, there is someone nice enough." Frank smiled and abruptly returned his eyes to the screen when he noticed: "Hey, that's my favorite part! Look, all the blood is dripping down his face."

Gerard immediately tilted his head forward and pinned his eyes on the screen, absorbed. Unfortunately, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket again and he groaned in annoyance because, seriously, what could it be this time? Couldn't his mother wait just a day?

"Do you mind?" he asked Frank and Frank shook his head casually, immediately turning his attention to the screen again. 

Gerard whipped out his cell phone and, holy shit, there were at least twenty missed calls and an ass-load of new messages. What did he do this time? 

_Mom: young man, pick up the phone. didn't you see my last text?_

_Ray: dude, where the hell are you?_

_Ray: just pick up goddammit_

_Bob: wher r u, fucks sake g, tmoro's Tuesday_

_Bob: r u evn alive?_

_Mikey: the othrs tld me 2 txt u, so hi i guss, wats up_

Gerard frowned and sighed exaggeratedly because, well, what the actual fuck? Either he was forgetting something, or something really bad had happened. But then Mikey wouldn't text him like that, indicating no tense whatsoever. 

Maybe Gerard was forgetting something. 

Well, he should probably text his mother at least, tell her that he's not coming home tonight. Tell her to save some bolognese for him or something.

"Everything okay?" Frank's voice managed to startle Gerard while he was lost in thought.

"Yeah, yeah, fine." However, he dismissed the texts instead and threw his phone on the floor without Frank noticing. Oh well. If he was forgetting something, there was nothing he could do then. He decided to carry on talking. "So, I'm guessing you didn't make any new friends on your first day?"

"Your guess is about correct," Frank asserted, looking rather disappointed. Gerard stared blankly into his eyes until Frank noticed. "What?"

"Nothing," Gerard swung his head away, his eyes darting around the room. So did Frank. And that went on for what felt like an eternity until Gerard had come to finally notice that the movie had ended. He pointed to the TV. "How long has the title screen been playing?"

Frank shrugged and proposed his idea, "Are you in for another one?"

***

Morning, external light was peering at them slyly through the small and only window in the room. They'd fallen asleep on the couch, which wasn't as uncomfortable as it sounds. Not for Frank, at least, as he was using Gerard as a pillow. They fell asleep pretty late last night.

It was eleven AM, and that managed to make Gerard feel really mournfully reminiscent of summer mornings. Back when he didn't have to wake up at seven for school, for fuck's sake. 

But wait. He hadn't woken up at seven today.

And it was a school day.

Fuck, he realized, he was screwed.

Frank made muffled, complaining noises when he was shaken-awoken by Gerard's moving around and series of curse words. Then, as Gerard got up to stretch his back, Frank made an attempt to drift off to sleep again...and opened his eyes wide when he realized that it was a school day, too.

"Fuck, what time is it?" he asked, voice tired and throaty.

"Eleven?!" Gerard sounded shocked. "Fiddlesticks! What time did we fall asleep yesterday?"

"Don't know. Three, maybe?" Frank guessed and got up to stretch his arms. He laughed hoarsely. "You make surprisingly a great pillow, Gerard."

"I've never been told that, but I'm taking it as a compliment and there's nothing you can do," Gerard snipped his fingers and proceeded to walk around anxiously, trying to think of something.

He decided to text Ray, in hope for some informative answer in relation to yesterday's texting-spree, whatever the hell that was about. He typed out a ' _what happened,'_ thinking it was the most unambiguous way to request a straightforward, informative response.

 _One new message_  blinked on the screen. 

_'good morning, Aurora. it's your brother's birthday. woo hoo. had a good night sleep?_

_'wherever you are. if you're still alive.'_

_'am i texting a ghost?'_

_'how did you die btw?'_

_'i meant slept. oops.'_

Gerard's eyes went wide.

Fuck, okay, ignoring the other texts about him being dead, he got the answer he needed alright. He had forgotten Mikey's birthday.  _Fuck._

And hadn't gone to school. God, his mother was going to kill him. Nay. She was going rake him, skin him,  _then_  kill him and make him into boots. He was screwed.

Or maybe there was a tiny glimpse of hope left. Maybe he could still fix this.

 

 

Frank had insisted on accompanying Gerard to school, and Gerard was relieved that he didn't need to ask for directions to get home. He was also truly thankful Frank hadn't asked any questions during the walk to school. Frank rambled on about the movies they'd watched last night, zealously and so offhanded, looking past the fact that they'd missed school. It was rather comforting for troubled Gerard, actually, who had figured; he was screwed.

Once the high school appeared in the distance, Gerard reckoned it was enough and that he could carry on by himself. He found a subtle way to ask for Frank's number and thus, they parted ways.

He hurried home, struggling to come up with an excuse.

His mother emerged from the front door (as if she knew Gerard was coming) looking at first aghast, and then, suddenly, very unhappy. She crossed her arms.

"Gerard Arthur Way,"  she said firmly, knowing that pulling the middle and the last name always worked on her son. It sort of alarmed him, like a voice in his head:  _attention, you're so dead. Happy to have met you anyway, man! See you in hell._

"Hey, Mother—" he tried, in vain, to greet her heartily.

"Where have you been? I've been waiting for you to turn up all day! You didn't pick up the phone once and now you show up all—" the exasperated woman stopped to sigh and pacify herself. She frowned at Gerard. "Don't pout at me, young man. Just because my tone is somewhat stern right now—oh God, come here, you scared me."

Needless to say, Gerard expected a far longer rant than that. And he definitely did not foresee a hug. He honestly thought his mother would go off on him for at least two hours. Luck was on his side today.

Well, he was still probably not going to get any bolognese from yesterday, but at least he wouldn't die.

"I wonder what you'll do when I go to college. You won't be seeing me for much longer," he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, shut up, I'll come to visit often. And bake you cookies and—"

"Mom...you can't bake..." Gerard pointed out and Ms. Way shrugged, agreeing.

She squeezed him tightly into her arms, causing all the oxygen to escape his lungs, and then released him from her embrace to raise an eyebrow. He sighed and stared apologetically. "Can I maybe get inside first? I can explain everything, I swear."

By that, Gerard meant that he had no plan nor a justification yet and that he was still working on it. He dragged himself to follow his mother into the kitchen, where he sat on a chair, still trying to come up with an explanation.

"So—" and now, it was perhaps too late, "—tell me what's so important that you had to skip school, Gerard. You better have a good reason. Not to mention, you almost missed your brother's birthday."

 _Just spit some nonsense out,_  Gerard thought _. Fuck, think fast._

"I..." he scratched the back of his neck, hesitating, "I went out with someone?"

Out all of the choices he had, he went with something that could very  _easily_  come out very wrong. And well, it did come out very wrong.

His mother leaned forward interested, the bitterness fleeing away from her face. "Y-you did?"

That gave Gerard perhaps the greatest and worst idea he could ever come up with. He could either have fun with this or end up in an awkward situation. Nevertheless, he tried.

"Yeaaaah," he faked a smile, "don't tell anyone though."

His mother nodded wildly and Gerard was getting excited with all this excitement she was indicating. She looked all lit up with bliss, as if she's seen Jesus or something. "I promise. Now, tell me, do you like her? Or him? I don't know, do you still like boys, Gerard?"

Gerard scoffed. "Yeah, I still like boys, Mom."

"Okay, fine with me. Tell me, do you like him?" she inquired, a smile appearing on her face. Why was she asking him that? God, Gerard didn't understand parents. Why would she be so excited about something that didn't even affect her life? He didn't get it.

"Yes. I mean, I don't know. We met only just recently," he responded. Inside, he cringed, but outside, he deliberately looked around anxiously.

"Oh. _Oh_...and what did you do yesterday? Where you being safe? You slept over at his house, right? His parents were there, right?" his mother suddenly looked at him warily. "Well, did you?"

Okay, maybe this wasn't going as well as Gerard thought.

His cheeks flushed scarlet. "Mom! No, gosh, we didn't do anything! I don't think he likes me back, anyway, we just hung out, that's all. And we just forgot we had school today, jeez," he looked down embarrassed. He swore if his mother was going to give him 'the talk' right now, he'd pack his stuff and go straight back to Frank's house.

"Okay, okay! I was just asking. Besides, you said that you went out, I don't know what people your age do on first dates anymore," she rolled her eyes and turned into interested, I-need-more-details mom again. "Anyway, what's his name?"

"Huh? His name? Uh, his name is, um," Gerard stopped there, unsure of whether he should continue his story with Frank included in it, or on all counts lie. What's the worst that could happen, anyway? The possibilities of his mother meeting Frank are...well, there are hardly any. So, Gerard finally took a deep breath and uttered, still sort of unsure, "Frank?"

"Frank," she repeated, broadly grinning. "Oh, isn't that the new kid I told you about? Oh, did you meet him? Is he nice? Can I meet him? You should bring him over one day!" 

Gerard's mind flooded with questions his mother was launching at him, relentlessly. He shook his head, realizing that, fuck, he shouldn't have said that. Fuck, what if Frank came over one day?

"Okay, okay. Enough, Mom. Sure, whatever, we'll see. Can we bake a cake or something for Mikey now? Together? I feel bad for not remembering, don't know if you've noticed."

***

Another sleepless night, another round of persistent and deep rumination was awaiting Gerard. As far as he recalled on that Tuesday evening while he lied restless on his bed, hearing other people in the house snoring; that day had been quite the day.

Mikey had accepted his cake without any grumbling, and they'd all eaten a piece, accompanied by a bottle of wine Ms. Way had strangely bought them herself.

That night, Ray, Bob, and Mikey had all decided to sleep Gerard's room. For no apparent reason, or so they claimed. Just, after the very long Monopoly round, they'd decided it was a good idea. Gerard, on the other hand, didn't. He knew they wanted something, and he was almost certain of what.

He rolled to his side to look out the window. It was still dark; this would be a long night, alright.

But perhaps he'd rolled to his side too loudly, because Ray was apparently awakened...or had just never fallen asleep, in the first place. 

"Gee? You're still awake?" His tone was hushed, not wanting to wake up snoring Mikey, who was probably faking too, according to Gerard.

"Uh-huh..."

"Oh, what a coincidence. Me too!"  Bob exclaimed in his measured voice and got immediately shushed from Ray. "You're no fun."

"Oh, I'm no fun? Let's see what Mikey will think of that when he's rudely awakened by your chuckling—Ow, did you just pinch me, Bryar?"

"Nope. That was me," Mikey's voice made an appearance, "you guys are all assholes. I hate you, ugh, why can't I just get a night of decent sleep whenever we meet up?"

"You would have if you'd slept in your bedroom," Gerard pointed out dryly.

"I see your point," Mikey admitted and stretched his arms, then said in a whiny voice, "but Ray kept griping me to learn where you've been!" Bob cackled at that, whilst Ray groaned exaggeratedly at his friend for telling on him. Mikey just laughed and went on, "Bob did too."

"I did not!" Bob gasped disbelievingly. "You liar!"

Mikey rolled his eyes, though nobody could see him in the dark, and rephrased, "Fine, you didn't. But you're curious"

"Okay, that's enough guys, thanks a bunch for your concern. I've just been...out," Gerard chimed in and held his arms up, though nobody could see him either. They probably only heard the crackling of the bed.

"So we noticed," Ray stated and pushed Mikey away, who kept nuzzling his side apologetically, "with whom is the question..."

After Mikey's annoyed moans, silence fell upon them like a bed sheet. Gerard felt utterly uncomfortable, buried under that silence.

After a short moment of silence, Gerard opted to leave that question unanswered. "So, what did I miss? How was school?"

"Oh, it was  _fine_ ," Mikey declared. "Hey, do you know who else missed school today? I've been informed, that new kid, Frank Iero. I wonder if that was just another coinci—"

"—Mikey, just leave it," Bob interjected, and Gerard thanked him internally. "What Mikey totally unintentionally forgot to mention is the Brendon incident."

By all means, Gerard was startled. Just the name Brendon Urie agitated him. Now, he was unsure of whether he wanted to know what had happened or not. Not that he cared or anything, but he asked, nevertheless.

"What incident, now?" 

"Can you not call it an incident? Jeez, cut out the dramatics—Mikey and Bob, both of you. Nothing happened, just...people change, I guess." Ray's explanation, though sufficient, didn't accomplish to convince Gerard at all.

Gerard laughed inadvertently. "I can hardly believe that. No, wait, I  _can't_ believe that. Christ, what gave you that idea, Ray? That's bullshit—especially when we're referring to Brendon Urie. What the hell?" And well, although Ray had just said to 'cut out the dramatics' Gerard hadn't done so. 

Ray sighed for one more time. "People  _do_  change."

"Yeah. Sure. What about Pete Wentz, huh?" Gerard retorted and okay, Bob and Mikey could slowly feel the sarcasm and the jokes withdrawing from the conversation and instead, the bitterness approaching.

"Who knows, maybe he'll change too, one day. You gotta...I don't know, think outside the box a little bit. Don't you think? Sometimes I feel like you're calling off all the new, possible ideas and concepts, Gee. Like accepting new people or, I don't know, people that are willing to move on." Ray's tone wasn't at all sarcastic, all the others could tell. 

Gerard couldn't. He thought Ray was being utterly ironic. He suddenly went livid; felt like he was going to erupt like a volcano, but prematurely. 

He jumped out of his bed. "Doubting my receptivity? Mind you, I'm the one that suggested to befriend him from the start, helped him, and now, I am the one that got screwed in the end!"

Gerard wasn't talking, he was yelling, all of a sudden. And to be fair, he himself didn't know why. He kicked a chair in rage and groaned, rubbing his face furiously with his palms.

"None of you had been talked and gossiped about. None of you know what it feels like to be shoved around on people's tongues as the subject...Don't you play know-it-all to me."

Ray was startled and agitated. He sat up as soon as he heard Gerard raising his voice. 

"Gerard, what the fuck?!" Mikey exclaimed suddenly, eyebrows furrowed.

"You don't know shit," Gerard murmured, tone hushed this time as he rubbed his forehead with his hand, "you weren't there. Maybe you were physically there but not mentally."

"Gerard, what are you talking about? What's up with you, all of a sudden?" Ray wondered aloud. He tucked his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself protectively, observing Gerard in that paroxysm of rage. 

Bob was gaping at them, which was quite a rare thing for Bob Bryar to do.

Gerard inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. He knew that the others were puzzled. Hell, they had all reasons to be; Gerard was puzzled with himself as well.

"I—" he began but was interrupted by Mikey. Mikey, out of all the people in Gerard's bedroom, retained the most tranquility at that moment, perhaps because he knew what was happening. Or rather thought he knew what was happening.

"Did you take 'em before going to bed?" he asked, presuming.

"I don't need no fucking sleeping pills. I'm fine." Gerard breathed heavily and walked toward his bedroom door. 

"Where are you going? It's late," Bob had to raise his voice when Gerard stormed out of the room. He glanced at the others in concern.

"I need some air!" Gerard shouted, being already downstairs, and grabbed a set of keys quickly. He looked around for his shoes. 

Upstairs, the room had gone silent. The door slamming shut downstairs almost made them jump.

Ray glanced at Mikey, troubled. "Did I...?"

"No, it's not you. The name, Pete Wentz, it just causes lights to flicker red in his head, man."

And perhaps Mikey wasn't as wrong as Gerard thought. Perhaps Mikey was absolutely right. 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

Though the night was fairly cold, Gerard didn't understand any of it.

He ambled leisurely and aimlessly down the streets of the cold town, not even stopping to check where he was. He kind of didn't give a shit about getting lost, at the moment. He kind of didn't give a shit about anything, actually. All that he knew was that he had exploded like a grenade in front of his friends and he was not at all sure of why.

Yes, just by hearing the name Pete Wentz, part of him became hysterical, but that always hid under a displeased grimace. The rage he could control and restrain. But he'd never been so uncontrollable that he couldn't hold the hysterics in. He'd never erupted like a volcano in front of his friends, never made them feel like they were at fault.

He felt remorseful for doing that. It wasn't really him.

Plodding onward, he kept humming in the tune of various Grease songs so that he wouldn't feel as forlorn and miserable. 

He stopped and read a street sign. Well, kind of. He didn't bother reading the whole name after he'd noticed that it ended with 'street'. How boring, how mundane. 

He decided to name the street himself: 'Gerard's Unconditional Shame.'

A sign ahead of him flickered in neon lights, some kind of 24/7 diner. Its image reflected on the water puddles that were formed on the ground due to today's bad weather. 

Gerard took a look around the stranded part of town. It took him long enough to realize; he had no idea where he was.

How was that even possible? Only minutes ago, he swore he remembered glancing at the high school.

"Fuck me, seriously," he muttered to himself and sat on the sidewalk, eyes roving around in hope to identify the place. Eyes roving around in despair. He wished Frank was with him and, though that was the most random thought to ever have risen to his mind, he still wished it'd be true. 

"What the fuck, Gerard? How would that help the situation? Stupid."

Nevertheless, he took his cellphone out of his pocket and stared at Frank's ID. He wouldn't call or anything...Perhaps he should check if he got the right number. Maybe.

He pressed the 'call' button and was too busy freaking himself out to notice that it had beeped once. He was ready to hang up when—

"Hello?" a voice enunciated, suddenly. Gerard froze. "Hello? Gerard, is that you?"

Reluctantly, he uttered, struggling to prevent his voice from quivering, "y-yes. Um, hi. I just wanted to check if I got the right number and t-then I remembered that...I shouldn't have called you at 3 AM, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. I wasn't sleeping, anyway. Why are you awake?"

"Uhh," Gerard said uncertainly and looked over at the neon sign again. Why was he really awake, and what the hell had gotten over him? What malicious demon inside his head had talked him into going outside at 3 AM? "I don't know, to be completely honest," he admitted.

"Are you..." Frank had to strain to hear the wind gusting from his phone, "outside? What are you doing outside, dude? It's pretty late, don't you think?"

"Yeah. I am currently...heck, if I knew where I am. I'm not exactly lost, I'm just..." Gerard mused.

"Exploring?" Frank finished for him and huffed.

"Something like that..." Gerard hesitated, but, eventually, sighed and gave in, "okay, well, no. I'm just freaking lost."

"Well," Frank paused for a second and Gerard heard a tinkling noise coming from the other end of the line, "do you need help? Because I'm in."

"What?" Gerard frowned. He must have misheard Frank. There's no way Frank had just volunteered himself to come and see Gerard in the middle of the night—and, on top of that, search for him because, God, Gerard had no idea where he was and so did Frank, most likely.

"Let me make myself more clear," Frank began and cleared his throat twice, "I'm getting out of the house to come and look for you. Now, it would help if you described the place around you a little bit, so I can get a slight idea of where you are."

"You're not serious, are you? What? Why are you laughing? Okay, fine fine, wait." Gerard squinted his eyes and studied the stranded area around him. "Uh, there's not really much to say. There's a supermarket, and a diner, and...uh, the sign says Damien's, if that helps."

"Oh. Wait, what? You're at Damien's?" Frank exclaimed and groaned sort of disappointed, "dude, that's, like, two blocks away from my house! How disappointing. I'll be there in five, hang on." 

Gerard clenched the phone in his fist when a cold breeze blew against his cheek and a long beep rang in his ears, informing him that Frank had hung up. 

He shut his eyes and tried to think about something else for two minutes. 

He didn't want to look around; he was too alone in the cold night. 

God, what had come over him? What the hell made him think that it was a fantastic idea to wander around this creepy-town in the middle of the night?!

"Idiot. Idiot, idiot. Oh, God. What? Why are you talking to yourself now? You paranoid—you're going crazy." He stood up lazily and took another glance around. 

Gerard froze as he swore he had heard the sound of footsteps. 

"Totally crazy," a voice—thankfully, identifiable—spoke, "nice Batman pajamas. Couldn't sleep?"

Gerard breathed in heavily, "Christ. That took you less than three minutes! You said—y-you said it'd take you five. Shit, you fucking scared me."

"Well, I ran. Just for you," Frank snickered slyly. "And now, allow me to repeat: couldn't sleep?"

"Something like that. Needed some fresh air, I guess. And you?"

Frank shook his head and gestured Gerard to follow him as he began walking toward the empty parking lot. "I never sleep."

"Shouldn't think so, you slept soundly yesterday..." Gerard commented and followed, though he had no idea where to they were going. It seemed like they were heading toward the parking lot at the side of Damien's Diner.

"That one time doesn't count. You know what I mean...I just have trouble sleeping. Anyway, how did you get here? Your house's pretty far off, you told me you live near the bay."

"Yeah, it took me a long time to get here. Uh, just—I guess I kinda lost it," Gerard said earnestly.

"Lost it?" Frank's gaze focused on Gerard's roving eyes. He was strangely taken aback, it felt like someone had slapped him in the face, and he looked away wearily.

Gerard figured he'd have to be more specific. "Yeah, like, totally lost it. I just kind of erupted. And it doesn't make any sense 'cause, on one hand, it felt like I was in total control of...well, myself and then, I suddenly started yelling out of nowhere. Must be because of something my brother mentioned."

"Woah, and you determined that going out at 3 AM was a good idea, huh?"

"Impulse. I tend to be spontaneous. I'm impulsive." Gerard stopped walking and examined the neon sign of the diner above their heads. "Huh. I never knew they moved Damien's Diner here."

"Yeah, bad move. It took more recognition where it previously stood. Now, being surrounded by a bunch of rich-kids, nobody ever comes here. I'm surprised they're still running it, honestly. The only customers here are infrequent tourists—because who even visits this town anymore—and me."

Gerard's eyes met Frank's. He looked really pretty immersed in all these colorful, neon lights, he thought. Although neon lights kind of prompted the vivid thoughts of strip clubs in Gerard's corrupted mind.

And just like that, Gerard's absurd mind had dressed up Frank as a glittery stripper. God, he was going to hell.

He shook his head wildly and the thought drew away in defeat.

Suddenly, he noticed; Frank seemed to have fixated, with wide eyes, at something in the distance and Gerard was determined to know what. He strained to follow Frank's eyes and was rudely interrupted by:

"Did you hear that?" Frank jerked his head up, looking alarmed. Gerard frowned at him, baffled, and raised an eyebrow. "I swear I heard a—"

A loud noise pierced their eardrums, causing them to wince.

Gunshot. Gerard's ears caught it, he was certain. His eyes widened in alarm. 

"Yeah," he addressed Frank, "yeah, I heard that. You think we better get inside or—"

Another spasm caused by the loud noise of a gun. Frank winced again and looked over Gerard's shoulder. Gerard observed as Frank's eyes grew big again, and his body shivered.

"Gerard?" Frank called, sounding sort of frightened and dubious. Awesome. Now Gerard was very quickly becoming regretful of his actions. Dammit, he should've stayed home. "Gerard?!"

"What is it? God, if you're joking or anything—It wasn't you, was it?"

"Gerard, whatever it is, it sounded closer this time," Frank ignored him and grasped at Gerard's hand—and though Gerard was on the brink of a heart attack, there was no time for that. "You reckon we should run?" Frank suggested in an obvious tone.

"Right—" Another gunshot had them both running at hurricane speed.

"My place is only two blocks away, if that's any consolation!" Frank managed to say in between his erratic panting.

"I don't need any consolation, just run!"

 

 

Frank double locked the door when they got home. He very seriously contemplated locking thrice but pushed the idea aside, and instead, focused to catch his breath back. He glanced at Gerard on the floor who was struggling to do the same.

"What do you think happened over there?"  Gerard unbuttoned the top of his shirt in order to ease his neck a bit and glanced inquisitively at grinning Frank. "What?" he asked when he noticed panting-Frank gawking.

"We look like we just had sex in a darkened closet and now trying to hide it from our sleeping parents," Frank burst into a fit of manic laughter. 

Where did he find the breath for that? Gerard wondered. He observed, smirking, still trying to win his own breath back. 

A frowning expression twitched on his face, and he tilted his head to look back at Frank, "are your parents home? I mean—your father? I mean, I'm sorry, I—"

"Why? Considering it, Way?" Frank, much to Gerard's surprise, continued laughing. 

"Okay," Gerard indicated a rant coming by raising his index, though he didn't end up ranting that much, whatsoever, "about a minute ago, we were literally running for our lives, and now you're laughing your ass off? And making gay jokes?" And though he'd meant to keep a straight face, he didn't succeed; he just couldn't prevent the smile from covering his, scarlet now, face. 

And he entirely blamed Frank for that.

"It just came to my mind and I said it out loud...I'm impulsive like that. Guess we're similar in a way, huh? You and me?" Frank folded his arms tightly and rose an eyebrow at Gerard.

Gerard seemed to have gained some oxygen back to his brain, enough for him to think, and he stood up cautiously, not trusting his trembling knees much at all. 

After he'd determined he could trust his knees, it was his turn to burst into a fit manic laughter and confuse the hell out of Frank.

"What?" 

"Man, if I didn't know you at all, I'd assume you're just trying to get into my pants," he paused his laughter to announce, vulnerable to another one of Frank's smart replies. He knew he was in for it. Hell, Gerard had rather signed himself up for this, he honestly enjoyed this.

"Well, you don't," Frank mumbled back. The words that came out of his mouth were too incomprehensible for Gerard to understand.

"Sorry, what was that?" he strove to understand them.

"I said you don't," Frank repeated his remark with a smirk, and thank God for the smirk, because Gerard almost thought he'd just gotten a closed door on the face. Excluded. Thank heavens for that last smirk. "You don't know me at all. At least that's what I think."

"Okay, fine. I don't know you that well. But—" Gerard paused abruptly. His smile evaporated.

Could it be? Heck no. 

He examined Frank's face carefully, trying to make something out of his baffling expression. When he finally realized, he huffed out a quick laugh. "Christ, you could've just asked if I was gay, no need to make all these jokes to find out."

"What? I—" 

"Kitchen's that way, right? I need a glass of water, my throat is as dry as a desert," Gerard cut him off and headed to, presumably, the kitchen. Frank hurried after him, puzzled. 

"I wasn't!" Frank claimed from the hallway and rushed into the kitchen to get a glass of water for himself as well.

"Mhm."

"I really wasn't. Pfft. I was just...jokes...joking."

"Right," Gerard nodded and looked suspiciously at him sideways. He took a sip from his glass and waited.

"But you are, aren't you?" Frank inquired eventually, interested. "My assumption was right, wasn't it?"

"I thought you said you weren't trying to find out," Gerard said and Frank lowered his gaze. He waited until they'd both taken at least two sips from their glasses to speak. Darn, he could basically  _sense_ Frank's curiosity rising and transcend. He balanced his weight on one foot to rest the other and finally spoke, "but yeah, I am. No making fun of me, okay? Think I've had enough now."

Frank jerked his head up and eyed Gerard, frowning. "I wasn't making fun of you, Gerard."

"Huh, I think this is the first time I've heard you actually say my name," Gerard tried to draw away from the ongoing topic Frank was pushing. There were obscure traces of sarcasm in his measured voice. He didn't really want to discuss it. There was nothing to be said, actually.

"I wasn't making fun of you," Frank continued to claim in his utmost earnest tone. "I began assuming back when you told me about that Pete-dude, but I was just assuming. I wasn't joking to make you say it, I was just...joking!"

"Fine. There. I believe you now." Gerard began buttoning his shirt up again when he started feeling cold. "Never knew why people made such a big deal out of it, y'know. If I'm getting told that I'll be sent to hell or the usual, it is my problem and nobody else's."

"Yeah, I feel ya," Frank muttered and Gerard blinked stupidly. Frank tried to rephrase for him, "same boat, I guess? Plus one similarity between us to note?"

Gerard tilted his head toward him so fast, so abruptly, that he almost heard his neck crack. Finally, some sort of sympathy, someone that could understand him on the matter. Yes, he had Ray and Mikey (Pete got crossed out a long time ago, getting viewed as a liar) but this was different. 

Frank was different.

Mikey was his brother, so it always felt different getting sympathy from him. And Ray was just Ray. Ray and Bob always felt like family to Gerard. 

Seeing Ray or Bob naked in the shower, for instance, would definitely gross him out. He didn't even want to think about that. Whereas, Frank, although he did not  _hope_  to see him naked in the shower, it wouldn't be as gross; it would probably be awkward.

Frank was different. To what extent and why, he wasn't sure of yet.

He felt the compassion, alright; but more so did he feel his stomach being twisted. One could take this very wrong, but Gerard didn't dwell on the matter. He chose to push it aside, for the time being.

"So..." Frank tried to bring strayed-Gerard back to reality.

"So," Gerard repeated automatically and scratched the back of his neck.

"What do you think happened out there?"

"I have absolutely no fucking idea," he admitted and sighed heavily.

"Me neither," Frank said. "Hey, since you're already here and stuff...wanna watch another gory, violent movie in my room that currently feels like Alaska?" 

"I thought you'd never ask."

***

Gerard woke up at 6 AM. He was alarmed by two very...uncommon things. One being that he and Frank had fallen asleep on the bed instead of the couch this time, and the second one being that he wasn't awakened by Frank's alarm that was set to wake them up at precisely 7 AM.

He didn't know why, but he felt agitation sweeping over him. As if he had just left an awful, horrid nightmarish universe. If the alarm hadn't woken him up, what did? Because Gerard often had trouble sleeping, but once he would fall asleep, nothing could wake him up.

Well, apart from Frank and the alarm, but Frank was seemingly and soundly asleep at that moment and the alarm hadn't gone off yet. 

In the end, he decided to shrug it off and fall back asleep on Frank's chest—something that would definitely afford great material for his dreams that night. Perhaps the next night as well.

Frank wrapped his hand around Gerard's waist and nuzzled his neck, making silent sleeping sounds.

***

"Oh my God," Ms. Way blocked her mouth with her palm in shock. All Gerard could do was drop his gaze to the floor, guiltily. His mother would definitely snap at him any time now. Gerard accepted her fury; he deserved it. "He totally likes you back!" she exclaimed instead, much to Gerard's surprise. 

"Mo-o-m!" he let out a drawn-out groan, both in regret and concern. 

He shouldn't have lied to his mother; there, Gerard admitted it. Could the universe kindly quit the jokes now? 

Plus, that only showed lack of concern. Gerard could very well have been killed last night, did his mother seriously not care about that at all?

"What? I am sorry, I couldn't help myself," his mother laughed heartily as Gerard persisted in indicating his exasperation, "I am really sorry. It's been a long time since I've talked with you about these kinds of things."

"Well, I never said I want to talk about it!" Gerard abandoned his seat at the kitchen corner and headed toward the hallway, in hope for some liberation from this stifling conversation. 

"Oh, come on, Gerard. Sometimes I wanna talk about these things. Y'know, as much as I love you, every woman wishes for a daughter now and then. Not that I want you to act like a girl, but talking about these things would be nice," his mother tried to win him back on the debate. 

"Nope. Why don't you try Mikey? I wish you the best of luck if you do. Can't make him utter a word on the subject of school, let alone relationships and boys," he muttered from the hallway, fumbling his jacket's pockets for his keys. 

"You'd be surprised. Wait, where do you think you're going?" Ms. Way toweled her wet hands from dish-washing and peeped out at her son in the hallway. "Don't you have homework to do?"

Gerard, having finally found his keys, rest his shoulder on the door-frame and watched his mother, idly. "Mom, who even bothers to do homework in twelfth grade? Come on, they don't even review them. They hardly care if we don't have 'em."

Ms. Way raised an eyebrow at her son. She briefly deliberated pointing out what she did when she was his age, but lastly decided to dismiss that idea. Instead, she stared haughtily at him putting his shoes on. 

"You think you're one of the cool kids now? What? Just because you're in your senior year?" she teased.

Gerard smirked slyly. "Nah."

"No?" Ms. Way sat still with a smile on her face and her arms folded as her son gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Well then, I guess you do need my permission to go out. Where are you going, anyway? Take your cell phone with you, and please, for the love of God, Gerard, wear your damn jacket! You'll catch a cold and—"

"Bye, mother," Gerard sang gleefully and opened the door to leave. "If I don't return 'til nine, then I'm staying over at his house again! Don't call!"

"Oh, I get it now," she huffed out a laugh. "You're not one of the cool kids, you're just love-struck. Okay, good to know."

Gerard shook his head and zipped his jacket up to his neck, still grinning. 

"Sure!" he shouted from afar, his voice immersed in sarcasm.

 _Totally,_  he thought _, senseless._ Indeed it was.


	8. Chapter 8

Gerard prevented the sun from blinding him with his palm above his head and squinted. He didn't want to aggravate the teacher in watch, so he avoided groaning again. The sun didn't have ears to hear him anyway, so it was no use. 

He hated the sun. Why couldn't it show up in the middle of a snowing February day? Warm them up a little? Maybe then Gerard would slowly grow fond of it....probably not, but it'd be worth the try. He bet if his mother was there, she'd indefinitely plague him about getting Vitamin D or something.

September was coming to an end, slowly dying out, and the sun was deceiving everyone. The trickster. It might have been up, putting on airs with its wondrous beam—which Gerard thought was utterly irritating, God, what a show-off—but despite that, really, it was a cold day.

Gerard strongly recalled Mrs. McMillan's words once, informing them about a rather strange saying in the Greek language; apparently, when the weather's pretty chilly but the sun is out, the Greeks describe that as 'the sun showing its teeth' which was an absolutely superfluous thing to learn in history class, according to Gerard, but also quite interesting.

So, he guessed, the sun was showing its teeth today. Ah, he bet half of the school would turn up wearing t-shirts, and their jackets would be sullenly hanging at home. The fools. Gerard knew better than to trust the sun.

Mrs. Henson, who was about three meters away from him, beamed all of a sudden and Gerard narrowed his eyes, curious to see what had caused this miracle.

"Well, looka yonder. Sun's finally out! Beautiful day, ain't it, Louise?" Officer Thomas took off his hat and gestured at Mrs. Henson. Oh, that's why the old lady's face lit up...just to indicate everything being in order to the Officer. How disappointing, Gerard had actually expected something more. "Mornin', Way."

"Good morning, Officer," Gerard greeted back with a smile and carried on looking around the schoolyard, his eyes scanning for a certain face to show up.

"What are you waitin' for, boy? Shouldn't ya be headin' to class?" Officer Thomas was kind enough to point out...just like Mrs. Henson had done earlier this morning...about five hundred times.

"Uh, I'm supposed to meet up with someone to discuss an assignment. I can't see them after school, so..." Gerard made up a quick excuse none of them would question and began walking closer.

"What are you here for, Thomas? Everything okay?" Mrs. Henson, thankfully, didn't dwell on Gerard's excuse this time, and folded her hands, not breaking the smile playing on her wrinkly lips, on which she had hastily added a layer of bright red lipstick earlier that morning. Gerard thought it made her look rather old—well, old _er._ Why would she put that on?

"Just checkin'. Don't know if you heard, but there's been a shooting and we're tryna investigate all around the town—" Gerard became alarmed very quickly and cocked his head up to listen carefully what the man was saying, "—just to be safe. I thought I'd pass by and greet while I could. And anyway, we must be ensured of the school's safety and protection. Above all, kids' protection's the most of importance."

"Well, I can assure you everything is fine around here. No shootings, no danger. None that we're aware of, at least. Students here are angels," Mrs. Henson reassured and glanced at Gerard boastfully, with her nose and her upper lip pointing up. Her look literally screamed to Gerard 'don't you dare ruin this' as if he had the intentions to.

Internally, Gerard threw her a menacing glare and told her to shut her mouth, but in reality, he didn't even bother. He nodded his head affirmatively. But he still wanted to learn more, goddammit, he and Frank got scared shitless that night.

He decided to take action himself and ask more on the matter, "So, did you find out who it was? Did anybody get hurt?"

"Don't bother yourself with these things, boy. Don't you fret, everything's under control."

Mrs. Henson crossed her arms, looking suspiciously at the Officer.

"Are you suspecting someone from our school? Is that why you're here, Thomas? Because I can assure you, we raise children perf—"

 _Shut the fuck up, we don't need your assurance,_ Gerard thought aggressively and rolled his eyes at Mrs. Henson's stupid comment.

The mustached man clutched his hat, looking wide-eyed in response to his accusation. "No no, ma'am! That wasn't my intention. Dear God. Didn't even cross my mind! The suspects and the victims are over the age of eighteen, thankfully. No minors involved, no minors suspected. But please, don't wanna trouble you with shootings and grumbles. Carry on with your work, Louise. Again, have a great day!"

Fuck. Well, thanks to old Mrs. Henson, Gerard would have to drop the subject. Now he'd  _never_ know what happened that night. Fuck it, whatever.

He returned to his business, which was, basically, staying away from the old Mrs. Henson and scanning around for Frank. His anger was aroused when he noticed Pete Wentz walking by, laughing his ass off with his 'perfect' gang and his 'perfect' new life. Did he ever mention he hates that guy?

He dropped his eyes to the ground, scowling at his shoes and kicking a bunch of little pebbles around to suppress his anger. Suddenly, he felt a heavy weight on his shoulders as he was pushed forward, two arms wrapped around his waist.

"What the-"

"Hi!" Frank shouted from behind him, grinning.

"Where did you come from?! Why did you emerge like that?!" Gerard turned around to face him and raised both of his eyebrows.

"Dunno, I felt the urge to launch myself at you. You looked kind lost in thoughts, so I figured..." Frank shrugged, "people show up when you least expect them. I wanted to surprise you, I guess. Like the sun's doing today."

"Wow, slow down, Arthur Rimbaud," Gerard mocked and slouched over once he was over the shock. "And, actually, I was expecting you. I was waiting for you, you dumbass."

Frank frowned, and then rose an eyebrow. "You were?"

Gerard put his cold hands in his pockets and winced, trying to figure out if he'd said something he shouldn't have. "Uh, yeah, man. That's what friends—what people do, I guess. We have first period together, so I figured...don't want to suffer alone, don't want you to suffer alone, y'know?"

Gerard's eyes roved around anxiously. He held his chest upright after taking a big breath, with the poise of a misleadingly confident manner, since he didn't want to show the nervousness that was eating him up. Dammit, that was really not the time to call Frank a 'friend', was it? Frank had, after all, never consented. Maybe he didn't like Gerard at all, who knows.

"Okay then," a smile twitched on Frank's lips, suddenly and surprisingly, "let's go suffer together."

Gerard let an extensive breath out, relief flooding him. He cleared his head and smiled back.

"To hell?" he extended his arm, offering Frank to shake his hand.

"To hell," Frank agreed and shook Gerard's hand.

***

Lunchtime was painful. Not only because Gerard had to stand outside in the freezing cold since he wanted to avoid the others and stay with Frank, but also because he had to condemn himself by enduring watching Pete Wentz wander around the schoolyard with his friends. Pete looked like an overly excited goat, bouncing around like that. 

God, what a life.

Frank didn't exactly have it better, though. Mrs. Henson was, unfortunately, still in watch, and she really didn't hold back on throwing death-glares at Frank. As a response, he just questioningly raised his eyebrow at her.

One thing was for sure; both Gerard and Frank hated being there. And this day wasn't ending any time soon.

Things just got worse when Gerard plodded over to the nearest trashcan to toss something and, all of a sudden, Mikey emerged out of fucking nowhere.

"You have been avoiding me," he stated bluntly with absolute certainty. He didn't even need to come to Gerard for an affirmation. He sounded too sure.

Of course, Gerard made a futile attempt to deny that. "What? No. Why would you even think that?"

Mikey snorted and gave him the usual 'did you really think this would work' look. "Oh please, I know you better than everyone else on this planet. Now, spit it out, what's up?"

Gerard sighed and looked away from promptly-glaring Mikey.

"Maybe the sky." He repaid his brother with a blank look and started heading back toward the bench Frank was sitting on.

"Ha ha," Mikey pretended to laugh and rolled his eyes, "had a good laugh. Now, tell me, I'm getting impatient and really worried that—wait," he paused and studied Frank quickly, "who he?"

"Huh?" Gerard blinked stupidly once and then, looked over at Frank who Mikey was pointed to. "That's...Frank. Frank, that's Mikey, my little brother."

"Little," Frank repeated to himself and frowned. He found that undoubtedly hard to believe.

"Hello, nice to meet you. I'm the reason Gerard didn't dye his hair green," Mikey introduced himself humorously with a flourish. Hey! That was mean, alright. Gerard would look blazing-amazing with green hair. He contemplated dying it just to perturb Mikey.

"He is not the reason I didn't dye my hair, don't believe him."

"Little," Frank repeated again, struggling to fathom, "how the heck, he's one head taller than you."

"I am also way more mature and, in addition, let's mention, way smarter. Rational. I'm not going to storm out of the house in the middle of the night, for instance." Mikey pushed his glasses up when he realized that they had slipped down to the end of his nose. He smiled broadly at Gerard, with a hint of savagery.

"Okay, I see your point," Gerard admitted and lowered his gaze.

"Or, in case you need another example, I'm not going to make my brother worried sick and then, out of fucking nowhere without an explanation, avoid him for the rest of the day," Mikey added.

"I am not," Gerard held his hands up, feeling accused, "avoiding you. And that example doesn't say anything about my rationality. It just proves that I'm a massive asshole. And I have not been avoiding you, anyway."

"Right. Is that why you ran away maniacally when you bumped into me upstairs?"

Gerard sighed. Oh well, there's no way out now, he's not escaping this one.

"Fine, okay, maybe I've been avoiding you."

"Maybe?" Mikey rose an eyebrow at his brother, boldly. And whoa, he was going to make Gerard say it in front of Frank, wasn't he?

"Ugh. Can we just...not play this game right now?!" Gerard implored and groaned as if in pain. The only thing he managed to do was increase Frank's puzzlement.

"What is happening?" Frank whispered quietly to himself. He looked at the Way brothers, confused and, needless to say, the silence between them wasn't giving him any context to make something out of the situation. And thus, he was baffled even more.

Nobody spoke. Frank's eyes wandered around anxiously. At last, Mikey smiled a wicked smile and pointed out to Gerard:

"You blinked."

"Fuck! Christ," Gerard held his hands up immediately and, like a little toddler, he whined, "that's not fair, something got in my eye! I had to blink."

"Okay, I still don't understand," Frank vainly protested. Thankfully, Mikey decided to enlighten him, eventually.

"It's a game. If he blinks, he has to tell me the truth. If I blink, I have to drop it and let things be," he explained, his smile still indicating great glee for his triumph. He squinted at his brother, giving him the usual 'admit it, you lost' look, and turned to Frank in question.

Mikey almost opened his mouth. He almost opened his mouth to ask who Frank was...then, he figured he didn't need to.

If Gerard was hanging out with someone apart from his friends—hell, if Gerard was ditching his friends to hang out with that one person, they must be pretty special. Mikey reckoned he should just walk away without another word.

Gerard seldom talked to new people, after all. Whatever had gotten into him would be for a fairly good reason.

The smile on Mikey's face faded away. He looked at Gerard seriously and once their eyes met, Mikey extended his palm and drew his index finger across his neck evidently; a gesture Gerard was quite familiar with.

Gerard huffed as his brother walked away, whistling, hands in pockets.

Frank was just as baffled as before. "What was that thing?" he asked, "the thing he did with his finger? What does it mean?"

Gerard waved his hand dismissively at him. "Eh. He's being the overprotective brother he has always been. It means he's scared for me, he doesn't need to be scared for me."

"Why would he be scared for you?"

"Doesn't matter. He doesn't need to," Gerard said. He examined Frank's face quickly, "hey, you okay? You look pale—well, paler than before, anyways."

Frank became alarmed, his eyes went wide like a deer caught in the headlights. "Yeah. I mean, kind of. These two days...I've been trying to figure out if I'm going mad. I really think I'm going crazy."

Gerard frowned. "Why do you think this?"

"Well, either someone's getting slaughtered outside my house, or I just hear voices," Frank said and took a deep breath thinking about it, "I prefer the latter. Though, you might have to stay over one night to check, or let's just never meet up at my house again."

Before Gerard had the time to accept the subtle invitation, the bell rang, as annoying and sudden as always. Fuck. And on top of that, he now had to survive forty-five minutes through the nethermost pits of hell with Mr. Johnson.

What a life.


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Gerard got home and his eyes fell upon the beige envelope outside the house, he froze. 

His mother sure must've gone out earlier that day; she must've seen it. So, why hadn't she picked it up? She always picks up the mail.

Maybe she had wanted Gerard to see it. And that's what terrified him most because there are not many things that Gerard could think of, that that beige envelope could contain; either a school had picked up on his application...or it was just his father writing. 

If it turned out to be the latter, Gerard would indubitably throw it away without any second thoughts. He didn't want to hear from his father. He did not exist in his world.

But then again, if he cut off contact with his father,   the only thing he'd manage to do is bring his mother down, and fuck, perhaps Gerard should start seeing Dr. Piller again because he had no idea what to do. 

Dr. Piller hadn't called for a long time. Gerard had sent her a very short email, explaining how he's really busy with school stuff, which wasn't a complete lie but not the entirely true, either.

Perhaps he should start seeing his therapist again. 

Nope. No, that's been going on for quite a while now. Always, when his father's pops up and shows some sort of vital sign, it ends up driving Gerard crazy, and he ends up rethinking his life, lying on the kitchen floor like an absolute mess until Mikey comes and finds him. Mikey was right; he's far more mature than Gerard.

Gerard's sigh was exaggerated as he crouched down to pick up the envelope from the ground. He stared at it for a moment, running his fingers across the surface with a hesitation as to if he wanted to open it or not. 

He turned it around and glanced at the name of the sender. 

He bit his lip and tossed the letter in the nearest trashcan. 

Fuck that. He figured he didn't need any more words from his father. He didn't want to trouble himself and end up going to therapy again. Fuck that. He rather live with his overwhelming curiosity now that he'll never know what was in that letter. 

He clomped into the house and ignored his mother in the kitchen. 

He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to have another one of their 'casual discussions' that would doubtlessly lead to an ordeal-of-a-discussion. He just wanted to lock himself in his room, and dammit, he was aware of how adolescent and teenage-like that sounded, but fuck it, he didn't want to do anything else right then. 

Was he depressed? Hopefully not, because Gerard, moreover, didn't want to have to deal with that either.

He slammed his bedroom door shut and locked it twice. Covering his eyes with his hands, he leaned back against the door and curled up on the floor. He stayed there in silence.

"Gerard, dear—" he heard his mother shout. She was probably on her way to his room. "Did you see the—"

"No, I didn't fucking see anything! Get lost," he shouted back, his voice muffled, and the sound of footsteps stopped. Fuck, he was being an ass again. He needed to snap out of it. This wasn't his mother's fault, it could never be his mother's fault. 

"I'm sorry," his voice wavered while he trying to restrain his flaming anger. This wasn't puberty doing this to him, he knew for sure; it was his fuckhead father messing with his head and feelings again. And his mother wasn't at all to blame, he shouldn't have taken his anger out on her. 

And God was it hard to hold that twitchy acrimony back every time. It wasn't getting any easier, even though days, and weeks, and months passed. 

He kept receiving stacks of letters from his father, which he always threw away with a heavy heart. 

It was as if his father had somehow awoken from his eternal, I'll-just-pretend-you-don't-exist slumber. As if, somehow, he suddenly had a heart. But Gerard knew better than to let himself be deceived by that.

Red, orange, and yellow autumn leaves paid a sufficient visit and took off with the arrival of the first snow in Maine. 

Gerard felt like this November was never going to end. Countless mini-tests that he was supposedly studying for, endless fails, a concerning amount of coffee breaks, and most importantly: a quite peculiar kind of satisfaction he got whenever he was with Frank. 

No, not in  _that_ way. 

It was confusing. But every time he was with Frank, he could just feel his concerns drifting away, for a little bit. Like he was meditating, or some shit. Except he was not meditating, no. 

They'd meet up a lot since Frank's father had completely disappeared for that month, and Frank wasn't really going to actually try and see through the glass. He didn't care about where his father was, really. He couldn't care less. He had everything he required: the credit-card, his room, and Gerard.

It was just them. 

Gerard felt his problems go astray, they seemed to be vanishing. November hit the road and said goodbye in no time at all.

And yet, though his problems seemed to be so far away, Frank left him puzzled as fuck most of the time, thus creating a new problem. 

He couldn't tell if Frank was joking anymore, he just had to bet with himself that Frank  _was_ joking. 

It wasn't just the suggestive looks Frank would tease him with, no; that cheeky fuck was throwing flirtatious jokes and pick-up lines every five seconds. It had come to  _that_  point.

It had gotten to a point, where Gerard was on the brink of asking him if he was indeed joking or not. But he'd sound stupid, wouldn't he? And Frank would totally laugh. He'd laugh his ass off at Gerard. 

But even if he didn't...that would be very concerning.

Because what if, although very unlikely, what if Frank admitted he wasn't joking? What then? What was Gerard supposed to do then? Would he just stare blankly and stupidly or run off?

Well, he was almost certainly not going to run off, but still, he didn't know what he would do. So, he preferred not think about it too much. 

Or just pretend that all the flirting going on was for fun.

Christmas was as boring as always; aunt Josephine was glaring at Gerard throughout the whole Christmas-dinner ordeal. Uncle Sam was basically talking to himself at some point. Gerard's grandmother was smiling but not talking much, like his grandfather...and Mikey was playing with his food the entire time. 

All Gerard could think of, however, was where Frank could be at that moment. So, as politely as he could, he excused himself, locked himself to the bathroom and called Frank.

And then came January, which was the most eventful month of them all. 

And an invitation popped up. For a party. 

An actual party. Hosted by Ryan Ross. With people from Gerard's school. There would be alcohol, and music, and food, and yet, Gerard and Frank were actually considering it really hard.

"What do you think?" Gerard asked and sighed once more.

"Dunno. Are your friends going?" Frank wondered.

"Yes, of course, they're going. Hell, half the school is going," he addressed and shrugged his shoulders. "Ryan's family is pretty rich, I've heard. Their house must be pretty lit. Like, three stories or something. Huh, he must be living somewhere near you."

"Pfft," Frank faked a gagging noise. 

"But on the other hand," Gerard began, ignoring the sound Frank had just made, "there will be alcohol. I mean, come on, do it for the free drinks, man. We don't have to socialize, we can just sit in a corner, observe and drink...together."

 _Hell, you're in for it, Gerard,_ he thought to himself.

"Woah," Frank gave him another one of those seductive eyebrow-raises. Gerard could guess what he was going to say next. These looks practically worked as warnings these days. "You know you don't need to get me drunk to have your way with me. You can just—"

"Alright, you flirt-machine." Gerard rolled his eyes, grinning disbelievingly. "I'm just sayin'...It could be fun."

"What, me getting drunk?" 

"No! I mean—well, that could be fun, too, I guess. But I meant going to a party, that could be fun."

"I dunno," Frank inhaled deeply and threw himself onto his bed. "Y'know what? I'll let you decide."

"What do you mean?"

Frank pointed a finger to Gerard and then to himself. "If you go, I'll go."

Gerard sat next to Frank on the bed and upraised his gaze to the poster-covered wall. "That sounds so middle school, but fine. If you go, I'll go too. So, I guess we're both going."

***

"So, this is Frank, I suppose?" Ray grinned cordially and waved. Gerard exhaled a breath of relief when he noticed that Frank was smiling back. Great. Introduction was done. The hard part was getting Frank into the house without having to go through Gerard's mom interrogating.

"Mom's gone shopping," Mikey addressed casually.  _Thank God_. Gerard owed him one.

"Great. I need to get some stuff," he told Mikey.

"Yeah, don't take too long, though. I ain't waiting a thousand years on my car. I'll drive off without you guys," Mikey warned and faked an evil grin. Gerard raised an eyebrow at Ray questioningly.

"It's...my car," Ray corrected, "and Bob's driving."

Mikey wheezed, rolling his eyes. "Still."

"Okay, okay, fine, I won't take ages. C'mon, Frank." Gerard snatched Frank's hand and hastily entered the house. He shut the door, sighing in relief. 

Looking around interestingly, Frank wondered:

"You don't need to actually get something, do you?"

Gerard's lips twitched into a smirk. "'Course I don't."

Frank's eyes roved round the room to examine everything. Damn, Gerard's house warmed his heart. His own house was big and all, but there's nothing to do in a big house when you're sharing it with no one else but yourself. 

"Turns out, I was right. Ryan's house is like, two blocks away from yours," Gerard interjected Frank's meditations. 

"You're staying over at mine, then. God, I really don't wanna do this."

"What?" Gerard asked, eyes narrowed. He supposed he knew what Frank was talking about, but asked, anyway.

"I mean," Frank struggled, "I really don't want to do this... _This._ " He started making gestures with his hands for Gerard to understand, but it didn't seem like they were getting somewhere.

"What? The socializing part?" Gerard tried to help.

"The whole thing! Can't I just wait for you outside or whatever?" Frank asked desperately, kind of pleaded really, like a child begging for a lollipop.

Silence fell upon them. Gerard didn't know what to say. Well, actually he did know what to say. He wanted Frank to come along, but he didn't want to pressure him or anything. He kind of didn't want to go to that party either. 

"We can just both wait outside," Gerard smiled at Frank, suddenly. "Do it for the free drinks, remember?"

Frank lifted gaze to look at him and huffed disbelievingly. "Yeah. I kinda forgot about your intentions of getting me drunk."

Gerard lowered his gaze, shaking his head wildly in the rhythm of Frank's relentless giggling.

 

 

"What? You haven't changed at all!" Mikey protested, resting his back against the car, his arms crossed.

"Mhm. I said I wanted to get some stuff, I didn't specify where I would put them. And I certainly didn't say anything about changing. What, don't tell me you don't approve of my fabulous choice of attire!" Gerard gave a twirl to show it off and Frank laughed. 

Mikey cringed and rose an eyebrow. "You're wearing neon yellow suspenders. What do you expect me to say? Plus, what could you two be possibly doing for twenty minutes up there if not changing?"

"Oh, come on, don't be so mean, Mikey. Ignore him, he's just bitter; he lost a bet," Ray chimed in from the car. 

Suddenly, Mikey burst into a fit of laughter and everyone stared. "Well, we'll see about that, hon! The day isn't over yet. I haven't lost anything."

Bob honked the horn and yelled at them to 'get in the damn car, already,' so they all jumped, startled, and obeyed. Bob, Gerard, and Frank sat in the back. Ray drove and Mikey was in the passenger seat.

The others had picked up on a previous conversation when Gerard entered the real world again and stopped looking depressingly out the window like a melodramatic country singer. He quickly became alarmed when he noticed what the others were saying.

"Wait—let me get this straight because I'm a bit lost. You...You've been hanging out with that group? Ryan? And assholes like Brendon and Gabe?" he inquired and leaned in, interestingly.

"Sort of," Mikey shrugged, "we were just hanging out. It was like fucking middle-school, man, you should've been there."

"Uh, no, thank you? What about all those times they made fun of everyone?" Gerard spat, his anger rising. 

Mikey caught on it pretty fast. "Alright, calm your tits, Gee. That was fucking forever ago."

"You sure? Might need to check that again," Gerard said savagely and scoffed incredulously.

"You two, will you just quit it?" Ray tried again. "You're doing the thing again, Mikey."

"What the hell, what's up with you guys these days?" Bob's voice trembled.

Mikey sat back and groaned. Ray was right. He was acting out of character again, but there was no other way to let his brother know how angry he was. One day, Gerard would barely talk to him and the other, he'd be asking him to draw or watch TV together. 

Of course, Mikey avoided blaming Frank for all that. He didn't know the guy at all, but from what he'd seen, Frank didn't really look like an evil witch who was going to steal his brother. For all Mikey Way knew, Frank and Gerard could've fallen in love, or something gross and stupidly-romantic like that. For all he knew, Frank could've saved Gerard from a near-death experience. For all Mikey knew, he could owe Frank a hell of a lot. But he didn't know shit.

Because Gerard didn't tell him shit anymore. He shut and opened the door whenever he wanted, mocking Mikey. Or no, maybe not.

Maybe it was Mikey's fault, after all. Everything was possible. Maybe he'd done something wrong and pissed his brother off. One thing he knew for sure; Frank wasn't at fault. Hell. How could he be?

Frank looked kind of lost, actually. Like Gerard.

"Pfft. Maybe you'll find your way together," Mikey whispered to himself and crossed his arms. 

"What was that?" Ray said suspiciously. 

"Nothing," Mikey mumbled. He rested his forehead on the window glass and observed everything outside as they ran past them. Posts, poles and traffic lights emerged and vanished like a bolt of lightning in front of his eyes. He looked over at Ray who drove carefully but with a face of concern. 

Gerard did the same. He looked out of the window with his eyebrows meeting. 

Frank had placed his clasped hands on his lap, looking around anxiously. He occasionally unclasped his hands to pick on a fingernail, and then, noticing the annoying 'clip' sound he was making, he'd place them on his lap again. The silence was the most painful for him—partially because he thought he was to blame. 

He couldn't help but point out to himself how Mikey and Gerard looked really similar, glowering out the window like that. Sullenly.

The silence was painfully overwhelming.

Thankfully, Bob made the effort to turn the radio on, and when he discovered a station with Céline Dion on, he started singing along with his voice of discordance, making everyone laugh. The car filled with the sound of loud peals of laughter.

"Fuckers. I'll become a star one day, you hear?!" Bob pretended to do a hair flip but ended up hitting his hand, which caused Mikey to burst into a fit of laughter again. "Fuck you, prick. Ouch. Ugh, I think it's one turn here and we're there."

Bob followed his own orders and everyone in the car turned their necks to see...an absolutely massive and full house. Fuck, Gerard was going to throw up.

"Oh, fantastic. I think I'll suffocate in there."

Mikey ignored his brother. "Wait, they don't have a pool? What the fuck, I'm disappointed."

"Yeah, they banned them about a year ago. Think a pet fell into one and drowned. They only allow interior pools in the winter now," Frank affirmed all of a sudden, his voice caused Bob jerk his head to look at him. Bob and Mikey smiled, staring at Frank.

"Wow. I think this is the first time I hear you speak. Hi there, I'm Bob!"

Frank lowered his eyes and coyly smiled, saying hi back. Bob grinned and gave Gerard an enthusiastic glance, which he didn't bother interpreting. It probably either

"Alright, enough with the chit-chat. You go live your life at the party, I think I like it here in the car," Gerard declared firmly. His straight face broke when he saw Ryan Ross with Brendon Urie knocking on his window. His eyes went big. 

Ryan Ross waved at Gerard, wildly and cheerfully. Oh, wonderful. Now, he had to get out.

His ears started pounding outside, the music playing loudly from inside the house. It was loud, louder than some chanting jocks outside. What the hell? Did Ryan invite a whole arena at his party and forgot to mention? Gerard's intuition whispering how he wasn't going to like this was louder than the music, unfortunately. God, this was a mistake. 

He waited for Frank to come out of the car while the others had already started talking with Ryan and Brendon. Good news was, Frank looked just as concerned as Gerard. Thank Lord, he didn't have to endure this alone.

"Hi, Gerard," Brendon asshole Urie greeted. Gerard's frowning didn't fade away.

"Gerard!" Ryan exclaimed and held his hands up. He launched at Gerard for a hug, which wasn't foreseen. Golly. Ryan pulled back to look at him gleefully. "Glad you could come! The others told me you wouldn't, but I'm glad you did!"

"And your boyfriend too," Brendon interjected, hands in pockets. Frank frowned.

"He's not...my boyfriend?" Gerard frowned once more and looked over at Frank who quickly avoided meeting eyes. Whoa. Had Gerard missed something? Maybe he was too busy (hanging out with Frank) to notice that another rumor had sprouted and gone around.

"I'm not his boyfriend," Frank asserted and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"But you're both gay," Brendon felt the need to point out. Why dwell on the subject? Actually, better asked, why talk to Gerard in the first place? Christ, the guy's got  _some_ nerve.

Gerard sighed heavily.

"Yeah, Brendon's just being funny. You know his humor," Ryan waved it off, "come on, I'll show you around and get you guys something to drink." He went on showing the others the house with his usual merry-jolly smiles and giggles. 'Others' because Gerard and Frank, needless to say, didn't join. 

They stood there for several minutes, clearing their throats and looking around anxiously until one of them tilted his head to look at the other. That was Frank, of course, because Gerard was, well, too nervous to even move. 

"Shall we?" Frank prompted.

"Where?" Gerard asked almost immediately. 

Frank laughed, and this time not awkwardly. A warning look, as usual, followed before he smirked. "I dunno. Behind the bushes, if there's enough space. How does that sound?"

Gerard's frozen expression broke as he scoffed. "Fucker." Frank giggled after that, as always. Gerard pointed to the house with a disgusted expression. "I'm not going in there. How about you go get us something and I just wait. There! That's a nice bench. I'll just wait there."

"Wow, you're in for it today," Frank said. "Fine, I'll stop with the innuendos. I'll be right back. Don't do anything else without me, alright?"


	10. Chapter 10

Gerard knew it, dammit.  

He should've stayed inside. 

Now he had to bear up at this party with all these paranoids. Whenever Ryan showed up, he just felt like he had to pretend. He had to pretend that he was having a  _blast_ , whereas quite the contrary was going on. He was basking in misery.

Nothing wrong with that, but well, why not stay home and do it? Somewhere more convenient.

Having finished another can of beer, he was holding the empty metal container in his hands, contemplating getting another. He looked questioningly at it. He could feel the beat of the music in his hands, his fingers throbbed along the rhythm.

And to add to his anguish, people started moving out of the house to the backyard, where he and Frank had entrenched their quietude and privacy. Well, until then, at least. It had gotten so crowded at one point, they were forced to move inside.

And there, the great party under the sea began.

"Wow, people are getting wild out there," Frank looked over his shoulder outside one last time wistfully. "Shame. I liked Ryan's backyard. Oh well, rest in peace."

Gerard winced, examining the people inside the house. They seemed to be having fun, alright. Well,  _their_  kind of fun. Gerard's eyes suddenly widened and he went pallid. 

He wished he could erase his memory right then. Gosh. Yuck.

"I think I just saw Mikey making out with someone. Argh," he said made a noise of disgust, feeling the nausea rise up inside him.

"Maybe we should go deeper. Maybe the flock has retreated from the kitchen now?" Frank suggested, ignoring Gerard's statement for a second. Once he realized what Gerard had said, he turned to look at him worriedly.

"Whatever. Just tell me to close my eyes if you see Mikey again. Jesus, I did _not_  want to see that."

Frank grabbed Gerard by the arm quickly and started moving through the great mass of people, heading toward the kitchen. Unfortunately, there were pests among the way, gripping at Gerard's shoulder, screaming 'hi' and expecting him to talk back. People Gerard didn't even remember, like Peter from middle school, Mr. Johnson's grandson—little did his grandfather know—and Skylar and Marina, who were apparently making out in the corner, but interrupted their intense make-out session to say 'hi'.

Gerard had actually forgotten about all those people. They were there, he just never paid attention to them. Before Frank, he occasionally set his foot in school.

As for Pete Wentz; of course, he had to show up sooner or later. Gerard wasn't surprised. Pete Wentz was the kind of guy that didn't miss anything  _ever_. He was surrounded by his dancing friends with a drink in his hand. Lifting it up for Gerard to see, he grinned at him happily. As if nothing at all had happened. Ever. Do people really forget that easily?

Finally, Gerard and Frank made it through the living-room hell and arrived at their destination. But their arrival wasn't as pleasant since their bodies were pushed awkwardly together, so that Gerard, who was taller, had to uncomfortably look down at Frank.

"This is...um, awkward."

Frank smirked. "Is it? I think it's pretty nice, you're really warm."

"Are you serious? We're baking in here. It's like, a hundred and forty degrees...in Celsius," Gerard said seriously.

"Mhm. What about Fahrenheit?" Frank squinted at him suspiciously.

Gerard looked up, calculating. "Two hundred and eighty-five," he said certainly.

Frank pulled him closer and threw him a suggestive look. "Turn that into Kelvin and I'll make out with you, you nerd."

Laughing, Gerard moved closer, looking down at Frank defiantly, and said, "Four hundred and ten."

Frank's eyes went wide. He leaned a hip against the counter next to him. "Wow. I'm aroused."

Gerard laughed, shaking his head to stop his brain fizzing because  _wow_. Frank. Like. He felt like his guts and heart had been twisted. He was close to being in physical pain. 

"Um. Frank, hey—" he was ready to say something back, something that could either be  _really_ bad or just bad, when suddenly...

"Oh God, no. Oh, please, no."

Yep. Gerard should definitely glue his eyelids together. Or pin his eyes eternally on Frank or something. 

To elaborate, from the corner of his eyes, he'd caught Mikey tonguing Ray—at least he thought it was Ray. They stood at that same corner where Gerard had spotted Mikey earlier. They've probably been making out for longer. Yuck, he thought, disgusting.

He couldn't move. Gerard was disgusted, shocked, and fuming, all at once.

"What?" Frank's eyebrows met as he spoke. He scanned the room with his eyes, looking for whatever had shaken Gerard, but was left as baffled as before.

Gerard's eyes were pinned on the happening scene. He desperately wanted to move them but  _couldn't_. His body wasn't cooperating, it wasn't listening. It had gotten to a point, where he wanted to punch himself and yell:  _fucking hell, I'm the one in charge, just listen to me_.

"Yeah. Pass me that bottle over there, I wanna down it all in one sip right now. Bleach would be good too."

Frank stared at him at loss. "What are you—" then he realized, finally spotting what had disturbed Gerard, "oh."

"Yeah. Woe is me," he said mournfully.

"Well," Frank tried to be reassuring, "don't freak out, okay? Just. Look away."

Gerard turned his gaze accusingly to Frank, resisting the urge to snarl at his brother from this far. "Don't freak out?! I just witnessed my brother making out with my all-time best friend!"

The people that were still in the room walked out, some patting and glancing sympathetically at Gerard. Lord help him, he was going to go insane.

He moved toward the counter and grabbed a bottle of whatever-he-did-not-know, opened it and took a sip. He felt the first drop of it hit his tongue hard; it was bittersweet, but it instantly made him feel warm and cozy. There was certainly alcohol in this.

Frank observed, looking concerned, but he just let him drink. Gerard drank. After two sips or four, he saw his brother approaching and automatically yelled, holding his hands up in despair:

"Nope!"

"I can explain," Mikey said firmly and calmly. Gerard highly doubted it, he fixed his wrathful gaze at Mikey. 

"Mikey, you just trigger pictures rising to my mind right now. Go away."

Mikey rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. How Mikey, Gerard thought.

"Y'know, you're always so dramatic. You need to chill out," Mikey waved a hand sardonically and seemed to be gesturing at someone or something behind them, but Gerard didn't pay much attention to that.

Frank was so engrossed, looking at the Way brothers talking, he didn't even notice that Gerard's bottle was one moment gone and then, suddenly and magically, on the counter again. He ignored it, only because what was going on before him was far more interesting.

After one of Gerard's long rants, Mikey pretended to give up, "Fine. Guess I'll go then—"

"You better," Gerard said sulkily and turned his back to Mikey, folding his arms. 

"Don't mind me. Come on, whoever, let's go fuck!" Mikey suddenly exclaimed and smiled wickedly, watching Gerard do funny faces that indicated his repulsion.

"Go away, Mikey!" Gerard yelled at his brother from afar. And just when he thought it was all over, he turned around to see Pete Wentz. Fucking hell. He knew coming here was a bad idea, why does he never trust his intuition? "What do  _you_  want now? Jesus Christ, I can't take more of this!"

Pete raised an eyebrow, holding his arms folded. "You need to take a chill pill, man."

And like that, he left. Strangely, Pete just came all the way, from the stifling living room to the kitchen, just to say that to Gerard. Though confused, Gerard was glad Pete left; Pete Wentz wasn't exactly what he needed right now. Frowning, he grabbed his bottle of whatever-he-did-not-know and took two gulps.

The liquid made him cringe.

"Great. Is it me, or does this taste bitter but sweeter than before?"

Frank raised his index at him to request his attention. He took the bottle from Gerard's hands cautiously and drank once. "We share. You downed two beers, previously, and you haven't eaten anything."

"What are you? My mom? Come on, everyone has had more than three drinks tonight, except me. I mean, you saw Brendon earlier; he chugged a whole bottle of...whatever that was, by himself!"

"Yeah, and now, I'm pretty sure he can't even distinguish Ryan from a floor lamp. And besides, I haven't had more than three drinks either, man. It's only fair we share," Frank insisted stubbornly and drank once.

"Fine. I'm feeling kinda dizzy, anyway. We'll share," Gerard compromised. He grabbed the bottle from Frank and took a gulp.

"Hey, not so fast!" Frank seized the bottle from Gerard's hands again and took an extended gulp, then, with the sleeve of his hoodie, wiped the remaining liquid around his lips. He breathed out heavily and squinted as if something had hit him hard on the head. "Don't be unfair."

"You're being unfair," Gerard laughed with irony and took the bottle again. Despite not particularly liking the taste of the drink, he didn't stop drinking. It must have been whiskey or something, he thought. He never liked that drink, although he wasn't the most empiric when it came to alcohol. He usually just drank beer or champagne, on occasions.

He drank beer with Frank the other night, when they were out in the forest. Gerard remembered strongly how Frank's lip ring caught the moonlight and glimmered. How he flicked it with his tongue and, God, how Frank had nudged him and thrown a flirtatious joke immediately afterward. And Gerard had just giggled. He didn't do it deliberately, it just sort of came out.

He remembered pushing those persistent thoughts away, that were strangely represented by Gerard's own voice in Gerard's own head. They whispered 'he's so freaking hot right now and you're so fucking helpless' softly, as though Gerard could do anything about that. 

Sometimes, Gerard really makes himself think that he's a masochist.

His cheeks were slightly burning, due to the room temperature that—unlike Frank's room, he thought—felt like blazing Sahara. He wondered if Frank had noticed that. Maybe his cheeks were burning, too.

He took another gulp from the bottle and, without even thinking about it, he reached out and cupped Frank's left cheek. It was indeed warm.

Frank looked at him with wide eyes, his eyebrow raising inadvertently.

Gerard snatched his hand back, embarrassed. Now his cheeks were undoubtedly flushing scarlet since they were burning twice as much. He glanced at Frank hesitantly, only to be met with his inquisitive eyes.

"Hello? Earth to Gerard? Can you hear me, Major Tom?" Frank waved a hand in front of Gerard's face, "we need to save the queen!"

"What?" Gerard said, embarrassment evaporating into genuine confusion.

"Just checking if you're still there," Frank giggled once and bit his lip.

Even though Gerard still had his doubts about the drink, he continued drinking it. After a few gulps, he started growing rather fond of it, unlike Frank. Frank, after a while, frowned and examined the bottle with his eyes, bringing it close to his face so he could read the label.

He read out loud, "Kentucky, bourbon whiskey. Holy shit, should've read earlier," and laughed.

Gerard rested his arm on a counter and blinked at Frank, confused. "I—" he stopped to collect his scattered thoughts and blinked again, "I'm not an expert in...in alcohol and stuff, but I don't remember whiskey tasting so...like that."

Frank laughed loudly. "This is  _bourbon_ whiskey though. Like—Get this: it's not just an orange; it's a  _blood_  orange."

"Same fucking difference," Gerard grinned and bit his bottom lip harshly. He drank and drank and drank, with the justification that there wasn't anything else to do at the party. Fifteen minutes of confusion, dizziness, and laughter had passed. And then, he felt a weight bringing his left side down.

At first, he thought it was Frank's hand brushing his shoulder—really got his hopes up—but then he realized that both of Frank's hands were in his jeans' pockets. He turned around cautiously, only to be faced with none other than Pete Wentz.

What the hell did he want from Gerard again?

"Took your chill pill?" Pete asked, his voice indicating some hint of irony, though Gerard wasn't entirely sure, hence his silence. "I'll take that silence as a yes."

"You're imprudent," Gerard responded and smirked maliciously. His eyes darted around the room like pinball balls; they'd land on a couple and they'd be launched and landed on another couple. Somehow, he felt like everyone was making out in the room—well, himself, Frank, and Pete excluded.

"Where did they come from?" Gerard wondered out loud and turned to look at Frank. "Why is everyone—" he paused, suddenly dumbly realizing, "wait. Where's Frank?"

"What do you mean? Didn't you hear him? He said he'd be right back." Pete's eyebrow rose in concern. "You...you okay, man? You're kinda red."

"Yeah, I'm sweaty as hell. Fucking  _baking_ in here, man! I feel like I can't breathe, it's so hot," Gerard protested, feeling sweat drift down his face. "Is this what it's like? A party, I mean. Man—I need some precious air,  _right now_."

And silly Gerard didn't even think about opening the kitchen windows; he left the room, grabbing another mysterious drink from the counter. A bottle that, this time, Gerard would never know what it contained. Frank wasn't around to read it out for him this time, and Gerard couldn't see shit under the crazy, blinking lights in the hallway.

He'd have to sit somewhere and think how he was going to get out.

Glancing to his right, the living room was full and scary. Like an ocean; fish were all over the place, gathered in their shoals. Shoals of fish were dancing around like they were demented. And Gerard felt like he was just a poor, little sponge, just wanting to escape this hell. Only if  _someone_  was there with him, he thought.

Okay, when he thought of  _someone_ , he definitely didn't mean Mikey for  _sure_. He and Pete Wentz were the last people Gerard wanted to see. And an encounter with Ray would be pretty awkward, too, but he could manage that.

Mikey approached, looking puzzled.

"Where's Frank?" he asked Gerard suspiciously and Gerard tilted his head to the side in confusion, not understanding why in the world Mikey would care. "He was supposed to be with you!" 

"Was he?" Gerard inquired and cringed as a wave of repulsion and nausea swept over him, in all this confining atmosphere of the party. And as if that wasn't enough, Mikey just abandoned him and walked away! What the hell was up with people leaving him tonight? All this made him want to yell  _'what the fuck is going on'_ because  _seriously,_ what the fuck. 

Consequentially, he decided to leave too. The room, not the party. He just wanted to find Frank, for heaven's sake. Ryan was so rich, it surely wouldn't have cost too much to hire a guide for Gerard or whatever.

He stepped into the living room, bravely. Things there were exceeding the level of 'crazy' that Gerard had in mind. People were dancing on tables, and taking their shirts off, and making out with everyone, and making crazy declarations to their friends, as though this was a party at the end of the world.

Brendon was drunk off his ass, Gerard could tell. He was dancing on top of a table, yelling, "I am gay!" repeatedly. Poor Ryan was struggling to pull him and calm him down—constantly failing. 

A strange feeling engulfed Gerard's body right then, when he was squeezed between two people dancing. He felt so dizzy, he could faint right on the spot.

"Gerard? Oh, you actually came this time!" an unfamiliar voice said and Gerard turned around, which he immediately regretted. He frowned at the person before him, since he did not remind him of anyone in particular. "It's Travis! Year nine? We had history together!" they guy shouted in the loud and crowded room, still dancing.

That was not helpful at all. Gerard hadn't even been paying attention to the teacher in history, let alone the rest of the class. Furthermore, he was probably going to forget tonight as well, so why was this dude trying to get Gerard to remember him?

Thankfully, the guy got lost in the crowded ocean before he could say anything else.

The room suddenly started spinning and Gerard felt his body vibrating on the beat of the music. It was like feeling his own heartbeat. It was so warm, he had to take his long-sleeved shirt off. God knows if Gerard would ever get it back. He was left with his Morrissey t-shirt only.

Next, his vision started losing it. In all this great mayhem, he remembered his mother's words: "if you ever feel dizzy, you should sit down somewhere and drink some water."

Unfortunately, he wasn't carrying any water with him, and he was definitely not going back to the kitchen...so he drank from the bottle in his hands. He took three (or five?) gulps before realizing that the bottle had emptied.

He observed the big fish around him dancing. Sharks and heaven knows what else. Gerard handed the empty bottle to a laughing guy next to him, who took it and screamed 'woo-hoo' in Gerard's ear and went on shaking his hips along the rhythm of the music.

Maybe Gerard should just accept the fact that he was going to die. Right there. At a fucking party. He was literally going to be  _'the death of the party'._

But what was that? A beam of light? Is it perchance, a blue beam of light, like Bob Bryar's piercing, blue eyes?

"Gee, is that you? What are you doing on the floor, man?" Bob laughed and hauled Gerard to his feet with his one hand. "Come on, you okay? Talk to me, dude."

"Me? I'm fine, man! But you—you're fucking spinning!" Gerard exclaimed and burst into a fit of laughter. Bob didn't seem to need more to comprehend. 

He nodded, unsure, and then, grabbed Gerard by the shoulder to drag him out, pushing through the crowd of people. Fucking brilliant, Gerard seemed to think about the fact that Bob had escorted him outside in less than ten seconds.

When finally outside, Gerard was humming the chorus to 'You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)', so he didn't pay too much attention to who Bob was talking to. He could hardly understand the words coming out of his mouth. 

"Yeah, I have no idea. Didn't Mikey say that—oh, sorry. Wait, I think I saw him somewhere in there too," Bob went on. His eyes went wide, all of a sudden, he pointed a finger at the front door. "Oh wait, there he is!"

Frank emerged from the door, smiling slightly. He looked back over his shoulder and shook his head. With his hands in his pockets, he approached Gerard, Bob, and Ray, outside.

"Where the hell did you go?!" Gerard launched himself at Frank. A gust of wind swept past him, reminding him of how he'd left his shirt inside. Fuck, he wasn't going to get it back and it was freezing. Oh well, he didn't want it, it was a gift from his evil aunt, anyway. 

"Missed me?" Frank smirked and cupped his hand under Gerard's ear. Bob and Ray watched them laugh maniacally.

"Maybe you two had enough now?" Ray deduced, smiling slightly. "Do you want me to drive you back or something?"

The maniacal laughter went on without a disturbance.

"Um, guys?" Bob prompted when he noticed that Frank and Gerard were full-on ignoring them, staring into each other's eyes. Despite feeling awkward, Bob and Ray got them, somehow, to eventually speak. 

"Nah, 'ts fine. He's staying over at mine...again," Frank responded, finally. He nudged Gerard for his assertion—which wasn't a good idea, since Gerard barely had control over gravity and, well, his own body. Consequentially, Frank had to clutch him, preventing him from falling.

That said, that wasn't a good idea  _either._ Gerard was _very_ touched, one could say. He could just launch himself at Frank, and pin him against the wall, and kiss him and, fuck, do _very_ bad things to him. Nevertheless, he held back strongly, not making any promises.

"Y-yeah," he managed to say. He really hoped his friends would interpret this as 'go away because I'm about to do things you might not want to see' because, unlike Mikey, Gerard gives a fucking warning. Unlike Mikey, Gerard doesn't scar his friends for life—not deliberately, at least.

Thank God, Ray caught that pretty quickly. He raised an eyebrow, winked at Bob, and they both withdrew without another word. Gerard heard Bob slyly whistling from afar, but waved it off.

Frank and Gerard began heading home—fundamentally, Frank's house. Gerard had to endure an entire three-blocks walk, that lasted longer due to Frank's sneaky larking. Gerard was in emotional pain, right then. Watching Frank bouncing around like an overly excited toddler was absolute torture.

Fuck, Frank was too perfect and Gerard was hopeless. 

You could tell that Frank was slightly more than just tipsy—though his flirting was as sneaky and cheeky as always. And Gerard slid aside his helpless lust for a while, so that he could pay close attention to Frank.

Which led up to him getting startled by Frank, who—after emerging from the bushes like a goddamn bat—chuckled in amusement. He wandered around chuckling like that, as if he couldn't contain it and had to share it with the rest of the world. Or the rest of the sidewalk and the trees, in this case.

"Don't leave, fucking hell, it's dark out here. And hey, I wasn't that scared! You just startled me," Gerard defended himself and folded his arms, pouting. Drunk Gerard reminded Frank more of a toddler.

"Mhm, sure you weren't," Frank slid his arm through Gerard's. He turned to face him and winked, saying, "you're just pretending. You just want me to stay... _close_ to you!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Gerard huffed and Frank mimicked, giggling. "Fuck you."

They stopped walking as they had made it to the house, and Frank began fumbling his pockets for the keys, humming something quietly.

"Whenever you want, sugar," he commented belatedly and Gerard drew closer. He looked at Frank's pale face, that face; radiant with joy and just...plain perfection—or radiant because of the doorway light. Whatever. The perfection clung there. 

Gerard was just going to be mad at Frank after this; he was messing with him.

He didn't understand how much it hurt Gerard right then, not being able to touch him. He was just messing with Gerard.

"Quit it," Gerard said seriously, but Frank's smile didn't fade away.

"Playing hard to get?" Frank moved closer, still smirking, "oh, feisty. I love it."

Gerard couldn't help it anymore. He submitted to his fate.

He kissed Frank; he just melted right there.


	11. Chapter 11

It was so weird to even think that some people thought of Gerard as an innocent, little angel. Or a shy kid. Or a lost duck in this mad world. Ha! An agglomeration of lies. Big ones as well. Those people would be in for a shock.

Gerard was no excuse in the renowned age group; he was a teenager. A teenager to the full. With all the hormonal shit. And some people would find that quite hard to believe, alright. Well, at least their minds wouldn't perceive Gerard masturbating, at least, because what 'innocent, little angel' does that?

But right then, Gerard was so insanely horny. He couldn't help it, couldn't keep his hands to himself, and this was not the alcohol doing it. Frank wasn't really helping by moaning and smirking suggestively, either.

The clock had stricken one when they arrived at Frank's. The clock had stricken five past when they got into the kitchen, passionately making out. How quickly things escalated, huh. And to only think they'd met half a year ago. Gerard rather not think about it too much, it didn't matter to him.

He had pinned Frank against the fridge, kissing his jaw, his neck, and his mouth again, intensely. As though he couldn't get enough of him, as if they didn't have all the time in the world.

"I thought you wanted some water," Frank managed to say, parting the kiss for a moment. That moment didn't last long, needless to say, and lusty Gerard was responsible for that.

"Not thirsty," he mumbled, lowering his hand to reach for Frank's belt.

Frank huffed disbelievingly. "Doesn't look like it." 

Gerard moaned in Frank's mouth, which was enough to shut Frank up and also turn him on. Panting, he tugged on the fabric of Gerard's t-shirt. His hands were everywhere, exploring Gerard still dressed. Sliding through his shirt, he finally got to touch his skin.

It made Gerard tremble and gasp, and fuck, his condition got worse when Frank started leaving swift kisses on his neck. God, he wanted to touch him so badly, undress him and kiss every part of him. Gerard swore to Toutatis, if anyone dared to ruin this moment for him, he'd lose his shit. Go crazy. 

Frank, suddenly, decided that he wanted to switch positions with Gerard, so he kissed him roughly, biting on Gerard's bottom lip to divert his attention, and pinned his hands above him.

Gerard began removing Frank's belt. 

"Wow, eager," Frank stopped to laugh and pressed their lips together again. "Mmph.  _Gerard._  Bedroom."

"R-right," Gerard nodded and weird sounds escaped his mouth next. Even he himself wasn't sure of what he had just blurted out. Through some miracle of some sort, Frank finally got Gerard to follow him down to his bedroom, after a while.

A twitch of ecstasy fired through Gerard's entire body once Frank had pushed him onto the bed. He kissed the soft and warm spot under Gerard's ear and Gerard's brain just  _fizzled._ The next thing he knew, he was taking Frank's shirt off, thinking about how desperate he must have looked.

"God, just—"  Frank panted, processing Gerard's request, he took his shirt off. He felt Gerard's cold fingers brushing his chest, and his wounded abdomen, and his hips—he opened his eyes and looked at him hungrily.

Gerard was still panting but, for some reason, he had stopped kissing Frank. He wasn't turned off or anything like that, heck no. He was still as desperate and eager as before. Nevertheless, he had fixed his gaze upon Frank's bare chest, examining every single wound. They all looked like they were healing. Gerard froze for a second, mentally and physically.

God, he was such an idiot. He should've said something. You don't just stand there with your arms crossed when you know that your friend could possibly be in tremendous pain! What was he thinking?

Moreover, you don't just trick your friend like that. Gerard deeply regretted not telling Frank about how he felt. He was so perturbed with himself, he wished Frank would punch him right there.

Frank sighed abruptly, scowling a little, and Gerard pushed his hair away from his face. He took his t-shirt off, wanting to feel Frank's skin against his. Their warm bodies against one another in Frank's freezing-as-Alaska room. 

Their lips crushed together again and only parted after a while for the sake of their lungs, to suck in a lungful of air greedily. 

Gerard's dizziness had relinquished, from what he remembered, before they had entered the house. After that, he'd felt like he was in total control. Thankfully. Except now, it was certainly coming back to him...unbidden. How rude.

When Gerard had opened his eyes again—not even remembering when he'd closed them—Frank's was sucking softly on a spot on his chest. And Gerard felt that, alright, but more so, he felt like he was torn between two worlds; one being reality, and the other being wherever his dizziness was dragging him along to.

"Fuck, Gerard, you're fucking hot," Frank whispered softly in Gerard's ear and giggled.

"I lose it when you giggle," Gerard admitted and felt like he was dragged into reality for a moment again. He heard Frank muffling something back, but he couldn't make much out of it. His ears were humming like crazy, his brain felt like it was going to blow. Like an entire flock of bees had somehow gotten in there.

For one moment, the world around him span and everything got sucked into a giant black hole of nothingness. 

"Gerard? Are you okay?" he heard Frank's soothing voice echoing in his head.

Gerard opened his eyes indignantly and strove to understand what was going on. He could only hear Frank's voice. 

"Gerard. Come on, talk to me!" 

He felt his cheeks burning for a second, and then, right after, he'd gone entirely numb, felt like he was balancing ice cubes on his face.

The numbness ceased with the unpleasant arrival of, what do you know, a headache! Woo-hoo. As if Gerard hadn't had enough yet. He curled up to a ball when nausea overwhelmed him out of nowhere. And it didn't feel like it was all stopping there, no.

"Gerard?!" Frank's voice was all upset, almost high-pitched. Gerard shoved himself back up to a sitting position and let out a series of moans, passing it off as if he was okay. He opened his eyes slowly and gingerly.

"'M okay. I-I think," he said, trying to ignore his throbbing head. Something hit him like a ton of bricks. He suddenly realized that he wasn't on the bed anymore.

"You fell off the bed," Frank explained, looking and holding Gerard carefully, as if there was another bed he could fall off from. What in the name of Dionysus happened to him? Did he visit the world of Jim Morrison and come back so quickly? 

"Oh. Wonderful." He sighed as he felt his headache strike back with a keen desire for vengeance. 

"Hold on. I-I should get you a glass of water and something to eat," Frank said, quite relieved that Gerard hadn't dropped dead. And in the midst of them making out; that would definitely make his already deficient self-esteem drop lower.

"Wait, I'm—ahh, fucking head's spinning," Gerard groaned and threw aside the idea of making a valiant effort to get up. Well, whaddya know, headache's one cock-blocker motherfucker. Who would have thought.

"Nope. You stay right here. Um. I'll be right back," Frank said and put his shirt back on. 

And Gerard was left alone in Frank's room. Having an intense argument with himself. Because this moment would most definitely have a profound effect on Gerard and his sexual life—when and if, in the future with someone else, probably, because Frank certainly wouldn't want to do anything with him again. 

He fixed his gaze full of drear on the door.

And Gerard was apoplectic at the idea of himself and what he'd done, but he wasn't as bad as he was after he'd realized that he'd have to actually talk and address what had just happened with Frank. God, he could already feel the level of unease increasing.

He was inevitably doomed. 

Talk about inevitable doom...his cellphone buzzed in his pocket and the screen lit up; Mikey had texted him.

_'so, did u guys fck or wht?'_

Gerard couldn't help but groan. He sent three question marks and one exclamation point as a response to his brother's  _very_ disturbing message. 

 _'Why r u on ur phon?? dz tht mean no??'_ Mikey texted back almost immediately.

 _'The question marks stand for: what the fuck. As for the exclamation point: I'm still disgusted. EW,'_ Gerard tapped out with his trembling thumbs and pressed 'send'.

 _Incoming call_  blinked on the screen. Gerard picked up and let out an extended: 

"Ew."

" _Oh, come on. You're exaggerating,_ " Mikey stated bluntly.

"Oh, I'm exaggerating? Piss off, Mikes. You could at least do it in the bathroom. Christ."

" _I think that the bathroom was taken. But indeed, you could get a room, Mikey. Or just warn us, I didn't want to see that either,_ " another voice, Ray's, spoke, which left Gerard perplexed and also agitated as loathsome pictures rose to his mind.

"Wait—first of all, where did you come from, Ray?" Gerard exclaimed, genuinely confused.

" _We've put you on speaker_ —"

"And second of all," Gerard cut him off, "what you mean 'they' could get a room?"

The line became smoothly silent for a moment.

" _Um,_ " Ray mused, " _that they...could go upstairs and do their stuff? Privately?_ "

Gerard shook his head wildly, "no, no, I mean,  _who_? Who's 'they'?"

" _Him and...Joe? Or is it Joey?_ " 

Gerard's head flooded with question marks and blanks. If before he was perplexed, now he was tangled in a bunch of raveled wires. Ray interrupted Gerard's futile attempts to answer his questions, using the insufficient context he was already given. " _Whatever. Why, who did you think it was?_ "

"You?!" Gerard said in a 'isn't it obvious' tone, his eyebrows meeting.

" _Heh..._ " Ray laughed awkwardly at the other end of the line, " _why would I be making out with...Mikey? Um. Anyway. Hey,_ _how are you holding up, man? And Frank? It must have hit you hard on the head, you didn't look that... steady when you left._ _"_

"What hit us hard on the head?! What are you guys murmuring about, I'm so lost."

" _Gimme that,_ " he heard Bob say, his voice was followed by a bunch of crackling noises, " _Gee, whatever they say...I had nothing to do with it, I swear. It was all Mikey's and Ray's fabulous idea. Kay. Now, talk to them 'cause I'm driving._ "

Gerard was so confused, he was going to blow and leave a handful of red, sparkling paper shreds behind. "What? I didn't know you could drive!"

" _Oh yeah. You might want to know that I put something extra in your guys' drink,"_ Mikey announced casually.  _"Mmm, actually it was Pete. But I told him to. Don't worry, turns out, you guys didn't need almost any of it. So it all went to waste, I guess. Oh well. So, did it work?"_

Gerard's jaw dropped to the floor. "You moron! Did it work?! You think I need 'something extra' to get laid? Screw you, guys. Honestly, if I wasn't as lightheaded as a freaking junkie right now, I'd come over there and strangle you with my own hands."

Okay, truth be told; that was half true. Gerard wasn't actually  _that_  mad. He was taking out his anger about everything right then, and Ray and Mikey just let him do so. They kept saying how he was right, and they shouldn't have done it, but Gerard knew they didn't feel bad at all. The idiots, they were probably enjoying it.

To add to the dramatics, Gerard ended the call abruptly, not saying 'goodbye' back but instead, groaning loudly. 

And then, Frank entered the room. Holding a bottle of water and a plate with a piece of toast and some lettuce on top of it. 

"Here," he smiled but avoided meeting eyes, "sober up."

Gerard looked at him anxiously. "Thanks."

"I heard you yelling. Is everything okay?" 

Gerard sighed. "Yeah, I just can't believe my brother's attitude sometimes."

"Why? Because he told Pete to pour something in your drink?" Frank asked casually and looked up to see Gerard staring at him shocked. How could he act so casual? Why wasn't Frank mad or even just concerned? "Oh, come on. I figured it out."

"Then why the hell did you drink?!" Gerard exclaimed and drank from his bottle of water.

"I wasn't going to let you drink all of it alone. Plus, I thought it could be fun...We weren't getting anywhere with just beer. They were alcohol-free; I forgot to mention," Frank reasoned and sat next to Gerard with his knees tucked up to his chest. He looked over at shirtless Gerard hesitantly and cleared his throat. "You should probably put something on, my room feels like a refrigerator."

Gerard put his shirt back on and frowned. "I'm going to totally ignore the fact that you could've told me and move on..." But after saying that, he didn't talk at all. Taking sips from his water, and occasionally taking a bite of his toast, he felt like he was being choked to death in that silence.

The silence was sheer and sharp torment. Like a blade cutting his throat. A torment that was indubitably going to be eternal, since it wasn't literal. But even though figurative, it was split between the two of them. Sometimes it jumped over to Frank, just to terrorize him for a while, and then it went back to Gerard.

It jumped around like flees. Thankfully, there came a time that Frank had enough of it and decided to abolish it. 

"So..." he began, "are we going to talk about what just happened or are we going to act as if nothing happened?"

Having finished his food, Gerard put the plate aside and inhaled deeply, then coughed, almost choking on his own spit. "I mean—if you want to. I mean," he said and inhaled once more, boldly this time, "look, I might have been kinda tipsy, but I was in total control. I knew what I was doing, I knew what I wanted. I guess. So, what I'm trying to say is that..." he paused, thinking.

Frank patiently waited for a continuation of Gerard's sentence. Gerard's shoulders hunched, he groaned in his hands, feeling the world still spinning around him, "I don't know what I'm trying to say!"

"You don't have to if you don't want. We can just drop it and—"

"No, I want to say this, I just don't know how. I mean, I should have told you the first time, but now I don't know, but I still—" Gerard failed to explain. "I'm sending mixed messages here, huh?"

"Kind of, but it's fine," Frank smirked at him. He ran his fingers through Gerard's hair for a while, not really knowing what he was doing. He didn't care, really. He pushed Gerard's hair back to admire a red, turning-purple spot on his neck that he was proudly responsible for. "Oops. Sorry about that."

"Well," Gerard laughed, feeling somewhat pacified, "I'll get back at you for that. My mother's totally going to interrogate me about my whereabouts now."

And though Gerard was joking and totally free in mind, he realized that a hickey wouldn't look much different than Frank's bruises on his skin. He immediately became alarmed and sat up.

Frank touched a finger to the sore spot of skin on Gerard's neck, stroking it. He nuzzled Gerard's neck and kissed the spot softly, winning all of Gerard's attention back. Fuck this. That was cruel, okay, he was altogether playing unfairly. Gerard's was still dazed, he couldn't do much and Frank knew it well.

"Sue me," Frank whispered. 

Instead of tonguing him right there and then, Gerard let out a soft breath and his hand met Frank's. He felt his cold fingers being squeezed tightly. 

He felt warm. And cozy. And although he also felt like he'd smoked a lot of weed, he'd never ever felt more  _there_.

***

"I've never felt more awake at four AM," Frank announced in a throaty voice, stroking Gerard's forehead gently and pushing hair away from his face. His other arm was wrapped around Gerard's waist protectively, and Gerard was resting his head on Frank's chest, listening to his soothing heartbeat.

"I've never felt so sick and so turned on at four AM," Gerard said fondly and tilted his head to nuzzle Frank's neck. "First time for everything, I guess."

"Guess so." Frank pressed a kiss to the corner of Gerard's eye, slow and sweet. Comforting and warming. Indeed he never felt so turned on at four AM either, but at least he had done something about that himself. Gerard was so dazed, he couldn't ever trust and stand to his feet. He let it all be. "What if your mom asks you why you look so high? What are you going to say then?"

"I swear, if she does and Mikey's around, I'm going to tell her that he bought me drugs and then, forced me to take them. Yes, I'm still mad."

Gerard strained to roll over to look at Frank's face instead of the ceiling. 

Maybe he should make Mikey a coffee one day and put salt instead of sugar. See how he likes people messing with his drink. How long this dizziness would last, Gerard did not know. He could only hope.

"So, are we just going to ignore the fact that you almost fainted previously?" Frank asked incredulously, trying to work up to telling Gerard he was worried.

"Let's just ignore everything for a moment and cherish being awake at four AM. How does that sound?  _Everything,_ " Gerard suggested and arched his neck into Frank's touch, striking off his plans. Nevertheless, Frank did not argue, despite himself.

Everything was perfect for Gerard then. He'd put up with his head- and stomachache, just relaxing there in Frank's arms. Hell, he didn't even think about the fact that they'd only met half a year ago—five months, even. It hardly mattered to him, especially right then. No one else had ever made him feel so content.

Gerard kind of thanked Mikey, really—he knew it was his idea and that Ray didn't have anything to do with it. Gerard was still mad, alright, but he was also thankful things turned out that way. He should call him tomorrow and apologize or whatever. Maybe admit that he's not actually _that_ angry.

Thinking about his brother, it just occurred to him...God, how on earth was he going to explain that mark on his neck to his mother? Hey, mother, you won't believe what happened! A bird attacked me and sexually harassed me at Ryan's party. Or maybe: hey, mother, I snapped my neck off and gave myself a hickey, so that people wouldn't think I'm that alone. 

"Frank," Gerard's mind belatedly fathomed, "I think I'm going to pry. Do you mind?"

"Thought you wanted to cherish being awake at four AM in silence."

Gerard sighed and lifted his chin to look at Frank, all puppy-eyes stare. "I do. But this is far more important."

"Shoot, then," Frank smiled and brushed Gerard's cheek with the back of his hand. 

Gerard hesitated a moment before asking. He was inevitably going to pry. "How long has your father been gone?"

Frank wasn't as startled as Gerard expected him to be—heck, he wasn't startled at all. He seemed kinda skeptical before answering, looking up and reflecting on the time that had gone by. He finally looked content with his conclusion and said, "several weeks, probably. It has been almost two months since I've seen him, though. Why?"

"Nothing."

"Has this got anything to do with the bruises? I'm sorry they were such a turn-off—"

"What? No. Are you crazy? I just don't want him touching you, that's all. I'm just worried about you," Gerard stated, frowning and looking away sulkily. 

"Nah, no need to worry. I'll live," Frank waved it off. He freaking waved it off like it was nothing! "It can't get any worse, trust me. Plus, he seems to have vanished. Like, maybe for real this time. But anyway, enough about that. Can I be the one to pry now?"

"Sure, whatever," Gerard rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe Frank had just dropped the subject. And most importantly, Gerard couldn't believe he had just agreed on dropping the subject. Frank cleared his throat and sat up, smiling. Gerard felt like he was going to throw some joke. "Please don't drop a dirty pick-up line. My head is already aching."

"What? No," Frank frowned and smirked slyly, nodding at Gerard's neck, "I was just going to ask you if you saw the second one, right there."

"What, where?" Gerard started searching for the mark on his neck Frank was talking about. How did he even do that in, what, fifteen minutes  _at most_?"Well, you know what that means. You pay double the price." 


	12. Chapter 12

It was midday when he woke up. Like. Actually woke up, this time. Because he had woken up from his comfortable sleep at about eight AM, to get out of his dreamy, warm cocoon of sheets and Frank, due to vexatious nausea. He had gotten out of bed and begun his blind search for the bathroom, tripping over stacks of comics and CDs on his way.

But when he actually woke up, it was midday. A sunny, warm January Sunday. The last January Sunday of that year.

His side was warm, Frank was nuzzling there like a kitten, making soft, quiet breathing sounds in his sleep. Gerard had to stiffly resist the urge to 'aww' and kiss his nose, only because he was asleep, but when he'd waken, the fucker wasn't escaping.

Gerard still avoided thinking about what would happen from now and on. There was still time for Frank to totally ditch him and slam a door in his face, and hat would definitely leave Gerard disenchanted, ruin his prospects because, in all honesty, Gerard liked Frank an awful lot.

And there, he finally gave in and admitted it, even if it was internally. He still had his doubts about telling Frank though. What if Frank didn't like him after all? What if he was just horny and exasperated yesterday, and just used Gerard for his own sake? While that would be crushing, alright, Gerard wouldn't be mad at him, even so. 

Frank beside him started arching his back, stretching his arms, which probably meant that he was waking up. 

His eyes narrowed when he opened them, external light blinding him. He glanced at Gerard and smiled warmly, sneaking his hand under his shirt, digging his nails into his skin. "Mhm-orning," he mumbled.

Gerard pushed all those pestering thoughts about Frank not liking him aside; he didn't need them right now. In fact, the only thing he needed was Frank. Well, perhaps an aspirin for his terrible headache would be good, too.

"How long have you been awake?" Frank asked, opening his eyes multiple times to adjust to the light. 

"Dunno. Not long. I wouldn't have managed, my head's throbbing," Gerard explained. Frank smirked and started lowering his hand to the waistband of Gerard's pajamas, chuckling wickedly. "Don't you dare, you sadist. I can't deal with a boner right now—ahh, Frank!"

"Oh yeah, I forgot about yesterday," Frank stopped teasing Gerard, thank God, and reflected on yesterday's events, snatching his hand back. "Don't want you to fall off the bed again. I really should stop," he said and patted Gerard on the head, moving away from him with a sarcastic smile. "What? Did you have to think about Mikey and whoever that guy was making out to get rid of it?"

Gerard groaned. "Ugh, you have no idea. Wait—what about you? When you came back from the shower, you..."

"Exactly," Frank nodded and did that wicked laugh again, "I took a  _shower_." Gerard groaned once more as stimulating pictures started rising to his mind; pictures that he'd have to push away for the time being. Perhaps call them back to his mind when once he'd gone back home. And talking about home, he remembered Mikey. Ugh, gross. He had no idea who that 'Joey-Joe' guy was, and he didn't want to know. 

However, he should maybe call his brother and apologize. Let him know that it's fine, or whatever, but he'd still get a salted coffee from Gerard. As a sincere: ' _thank you, I love you, but fuck you_ '.

After Gerard had regained trust in his knees and they weren't as weak anymore, Frank headed up to the kitchen, and he scurried after him. Frank searched thoroughly the kitchen counters for something eatable. Unfortunately, the only things lying around the house were flour from a trillion years ago and coffee. He went with coffee, without a doubt. 

"Think I'm going to call my brother. See how he's doing and stuff," Gerard announced and waited for Frank. For his approval or whatever.

"Oh yeah. I should mention that someone called you this morning. I think like, three hours ago. I only read the ID, I think it was your mom."

"My mom?" Gerard frowned. If he had forgotten something  _again_ , like the first time he stayed over at Frank's, hell, was going to go nuts. What could he be forgetting this time? Was it someone else's birthday?

Gerard whipped out his cell phone and, indeed, his mother had called him. And texted him.

' _be home before two pm, please. SOS. Very important._ '

Okay, the conclusion Gerard had come to in three seconds was that this had to do with college. Although just the thought of college was kind of upsetting, at least he hadn't forgotten something again. And plus, he had one hour and a half ahead of him. Moreover, he had an hour and a half ahead of him with  _Frank_. 

Frank brewed some water, so Gerard found the time to call Mikey. 

One beep. Two beeps. Three beeps. Four and an extended beep. Gerard ended the call and tried again. It was no use. Mikey did not pick up, neither did he the next three times, and okay, it could be that he was asleep or something, but Gerard deemed it was only right to blame himself. Maybe Mikey was pissed at him or something. Not that he had a reason to, but Gerard didn't understand his brother's mind anyway. It could be possible.

"So," Frank stopped inspecting the kitchen and eyed Gerard, holding a pill, "bad news; we don't have anything to eat. Just coffee. But the good news is that I found an aspirin for your headache!"

"Thanks," Gerard took it gladly and swallowed it. He drank some water and then turned to report his progress so far to Frank as well, "Mikey's not picking up and my mom wants me home before two to plague me about college. So...that leaves us one hour and thirty minutes."

"Well, good luck with that," Frank said, as if he'd only heard ' _college_ '. Gerard heard him huff and felt an urge to ask. But he didn't ask. It was as though Frank didn't want him to ask. Something held Gerard back. Once Frank had calmed down after his, what seemed like an internal argument with himself, he sighed heavily and poured the coffee into two mugs, handing one to Gerard, who looked at him worriedly. Suddenly, his face lit up, as if an enlightenment had hit him from the sky or something.

He slouched over and looked at Gerard, smirking slyly. 

"What?" Gerard asked, still a bit concerned, and slumped over.

Frank lingered a peck on his lips and pulled away, beaming. "One hour and thirty minutes, huh?"

***

Gerard hurried home, being already thirty minutes late. Hey, he wasn't entirely to blame. He and Frank had gone back to bed, cuddling, all warm and cozy under a pile of blankets again. No making out, no tension—though Frank wouldn't exactly be opposed to making out. It was a copacetic moment, okay, Gerard didn't want to abandon it for stupid college-crap.

He unlocked the front door to his house and stepped in, heart still racing from running. "Mo-om, I'm home!" he sang in a dulcet voice, cheerfully.

"Gerard, honey—"

His mother didn't even get to speak when she emerged from the kitchen door, Gerard cut her off, "—Hey, do you know where Mikes is? He is not picking up the phone, I think he's angry at something I did but I don't know what!"

"Honey—" Ms. Way tried desperately again, but was once more interrupted.

"Like, he was fine yesterday. I don't geddit. Overall, I should be mad at him! You know what he did?"

His mother held her hands up, looking serious. That almost startled Gerard. When was the last time he'd seen his mother that solemn? Like, what could have gone that wrong? Did a school call her to announce that Gerard didn't have a future? Pfft. Even so, his mother would try to be reassuring. Maybe she caught on that one time Gerard lied to her about doing laundry.

Maybe she was just provoked by the fact that Gerard was late. 

"There's something we need to discuss," his mother addressed, slowly and calmly, "now."

"I know..." Gerard looked away and then back at her tentatively, giving a quick, weak smile, "that's kind of why I came back now?"

His mother tried to say something, but she drew in a breath instead and tilted her head, looking more troubled than solemn. "Why don't you come into the kitchen? Try to keep calm, I know this is a big change and something hard to fathom. It will be, at first."

Okay, Gerard was really getting worried. Did she adopt a dog or something? That would be amazing, not something to be upset about. Maybe the poor dog was disabled.

"Mom, what is going on?" he huffed, not taking a step forward. He heard a chair creaking from the kitchen, being dragged. Footsteps. Someone emerged from the kitchen door. 

Gerard jumped back, agitated. 

" _What?_ " he said incredulously, looking at the familiar man leaning against the door-frame. "Oh, fuck no. Are you kidding me?! What did I do? What did I ever do to deserve this?"

His father stepped closer with hesitation. 

Anger that Gerard had already endured shot through his entire body. God preserve some of his sanity, for right then, he was losing it at an alarming rate. He could as well launch at his father and choke him right there and then, but he didn't want his mother to witness that.

Then, something hit him like a full bucket of ice; his mother wasn't shouting at his father to get the hell out of their house. His mother was staring at Gerard apologetically. Of course, he should've known. Christ, and he thought she was on his side!

"Good afternoon," his father said, his tone carefully measured, "Gerard."

Gerard didn't buy into his father's 'affability'. He only said, seriously and strictly, "Get the hell out of my house," and pointed a thumb at the front door behind him, stepping aside, as if he expected his father to obediently do so.

Ms. Way tried to interfere, feeling frantic and contrite. "Gerard, please, let's talk this out calmly."

"Is that why Mikey wasn't answering the phone? He passed by this morning and saw _him_?" Gerard said enraged, pointing at his father, oblivious to what his mother had just suggested. There was no way Gerard was going to 'talk this through' as if it was something they could talk about.

Puzzle pieces started connecting in his head. Of course. That's why he was acting all thoughtful and amiable. That's why he sent that stack of letters. Fucker. Gerard didn't have the IQ of a freaking banana, what ever made him think that he was going to assent? 

"Michael was startled, he just needs some time," his father reasoned. Gerard scowled threateningly. 

"We call him Mikey, didn't you hear me, he doesn't go by Michael anymore." He lowered his wrathful gaze, and then, spoke in a fierce half-whisper, "fucking leave."

"Gerard. Believe me when I say, I'm truly sorry. You think we can put the past behind?"

Gerard laughed incredulously. He couldn't believe it; his father sounded like Pete Wentz. What's next? Was he going to put something in Gerard's drink, too? Gerard wasn't going to consent, of course, he didn't have the naivete of a freaking moth. He wasn't going to stroll up to some light, he'd get lured into a fire if he did so.  _Gosh, who does he think he is,_  Gerard thought.

"Ha! No," Gerard said curtly and briefly.

"Gerard," his mother tried to interfere again, hopeless, "let's just sit down somewhere and talk this out."

"Is he going to leave?" Gerard demanded to know, ignoring whatever his mother was pushing, in devoid of interest. 

 _No,_  they couldn't just talk it out. They already had, Gerard recalled strongly, six years ago. With lawyers and court and shit that daunted him back then. But not anymore. In fact, he was probably going to get convicted if his father didn't leave the house soon. Paranoia would overwhelm Gerard and he'd do something insane, out of the blue.

"Nobody is going to leave, Gerard," his mother said calmly. "Let's—"

"I'm afraid it's no use, dear," his father interjected, "I don't think Gerard appraises my presence as much, right now."

"Took you long enough to realize," Gerard said and snickered, tone dripping with irony. He didn't want to dwell but: dear. _Dear_. His father had called his mother  _dear_. What now? Were they soon going to announce their reconciling? Bull. Shit. Gerard was going to leave the house if that happened.

"It's okay, Donald. He will, eventually. Gerard, honey, you can't live with that. In this house, we need to accept everyone's choices. I will support you in whatever you do, at all costs, you know that," his mother said. Gerard jerked his head up at her liken, that was leading to something he wished to never happen. "Wouldn't you do the same for me?"

He looked anxiously and betrayed between his parents. He was the victim. Parents should never do that to their children. Get married, then suddenly get a divorce, and when things have calmed down, bring everything upside down again by reconciling. What game were they playing with their children? Kids aren't dolls. 

Getting accustomed to one's absence is very difficult, especially for a child. But the hardest thing is to get re-accustomed to one's presence afterward. They were _mocking_  Gerard. They had to be kidding, he figured. They just had to.

"Gerard, don't you look at me like that," his mother implored remorsefully.

Gerard continued staring inquisitively at her. "Does that mean...?"

Ms. Way folded her arms and lowered her gaze with anguish. "Yes."

Abruptly, the puzzlement evaporated from Gerard's face to another scowl again. He looked away and said boldly and doubtlessly:

"Somebody is going to leave. If he doesn't, then I will." 

He waited for his mother to flinch, any kind of motion would do. React in whatever way to what he had said. But she didn't, and Gerard could hardly believe his eyes, ears and well, reality. It could be that he was dreaming, still sleeping, still at Frank's house. Right?

He waited another minute to be ensured. Nobody moved. 

Gerard huffed out an ironic laugh. "Very well then," he nodded and grabbed his keys again. Hearing his mother call his name, he slammed the door shut and stormed off. 

He didn't know where he was heading to, only that it would be away from this place. Dammit. He had just left home and didn't when he'd come back. Or if. Goddammit, what about his stuff? Would his parents give it all away if he was gone for more than a day? 

Perhaps he should call Frank. See what he's doing. Maybe tell him to meet up or something. 

He whipped out his cellphone and his trembling thumb pressed 'call'. It beeped once, twice, thrice, and Gerard ended the call out of frustration on the fourth beep. He called Mikey who left him disappointed again, not picking up. 

He decided to call Ray, since he's the only person to ever pick up. 

 _"Gerard!"_  Ray almost destroyed Gerard's ear membrane by picking up immediately.  _"Yes, Mikey's fine, he's here with me."_

"How did you—" Gerard concluded that he didn't need to ask. Ray's probably a psychic. 

 _"It's not really a good time to talk, okay, just stay where you are,_ " Mikey grabbed the phone from Ray's hands and advised, his voice giving away his apprehension,  _"which I hope is at Frank's. We can't talk now, don't come over here please, I'll see you tomorrow or something, Gee."_

"Wait! No, I—" he tried to say, but Mikey had already hung up on him. Perfect. Splendid! Because it's not like Gerard actually needed Mikey and Ray right then. It's not like he didn't have a place to go. Pfft.

Gerard felt so hopeless right then. As if everything was going to go downhill from then and on. As though somebody had cursed him. Was it Pete Wentz? Gerard wouldn't find that hard to believe.

As always, his last hope ended up being Bob Bryar. Bob Bryar seldom didn't pick up the phone, but he preferred face-to-face talks, so he invited Gerard over. Gerard was over than glad he didn't have to sleep in the streets or something that night. Bob made him coffee and listened carefully to Gerard's indefinite babbling. He even pretended to be a therapist, scribbling notes and sketching aimless, irrelevant stuff that made Gerard laugh. The dork. 

"Okay, so what I've got so far is," Bob paused to examine his finished masterpiece with scrutiny and turned the sketchpad around for Gerard to see. Gerard smiled crookedly. The picture showed a stick-figure Gerard with angry eyebrows and a bloody knife, and beside him, a stabbed, dead stick-figure. "I think my picture is completely accurate," Bob stated, lifting his chin proudly.

"Very accurate," Gerard giggled a little, watching Bob add a Batman mask on his stick-figure Gerard. 

When Bob had completed transforming his picture into a scene from Batman, he put his pencil down and said, "I think you know what that means."

Gerard frowned skeptically. "Uhh...that I have to sneak into my house in the night with a Batman suit on?"

"No," Bob said disapprovingly and sighed, "it means that you need a little bit of time to calm yourself down, and then turn up to talk with your parents. To prevent this," he started making circular motions with his pencil around the knife.

"But I don't wanna talk" Gerard looked down sullenly.

"You will, eventually, Gee. I mean, right now you can't really think distinctly because you're so angry, but if you actually wait around a bit, you'll see. Y'know, think about how bad your mom feels now, man."

"You think she does?" Gerard rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't think she cares. She looked kind of angry to me, and she didn't even have the right to be!"

Bob sighed and didn't speak for a moment, letting Gerard's fury drop down a notch. "So, what if she was angry, huh? So? Fuckin' Edgar Allan Poe, you know what he said? Years of love can be forgotten in the fever of a minute. Let her calm down, allow yourself to calm down. Also, I bet that she's going to call you by tomorrow, man, I bet she'll be worried sick."

"Whatever," Gerard rolled his eyes.

A groan escaped Bob's lips. "Seriously, dude, if you don't allow yourself to cool off, you'll be throwing tantrums like a three-year-old soon. Y'know? Chill out."

As much as Gerard hated to admit it, Bob had a point. Gerard let it go for a while, he let all of his fury fall away, listening to Bob converse with himself about poets, and authors, and then about science-fiction, and stuff that Gerard really didn't understand after that but nodded as though he did, anyway.

It didn't take Bob long to latch onto a reason and dwell on it, eventually tempting Gerard to talk about the matter. The matter being Frank. To which he didn't really have much to say because he honestly didn't know himself.

"Oh, Bob, piss off," he protested, dropping his eyes and trying not to smile. "No, I do not want to talk about it!"

"Come ooooon," Bob cried out, "what was with the lingering hugs and stares that night then? You have to like him. C'mon, don't prove my theory wrong!"

"I don't know," Gerard drawled. Bob was acting like it was something Gerard was sure about and keeping a secret. Well, no, it wasn't like that at all. Hell, if Gerard knew how he and Frank felt, he wouldn't be hesitating on calling him right then. "Y'know, why don't we ever talk about people you like, or romantic ideals, or whatever? You never talk about those things."

Bob's eyes darted anxiously as he was pondering. "Um," he said nonplussed, "maybe it's just because I'm not into anyone."

"Yeah. Never? That can't be, we've been friends since, what, fucking seventh grade? You just never talk about those things with us. It's always just me, Mikey, and seldom if ever Ray starting on turn-on's and stuff."

"I mean..." he shot Gerard a serious glance, "that's just who I am. Y'know?"

"What? Uncomfortable with these things?" Gerard's eyebrows met, not understanding what Bob was talking about. Maybe he should shut it and listen to his friend more carefully for once. And more often. Something, a pinprick of apprehension and doubt, was whispering to him that Bob was taciturn because they never let him talk. He didn't like the idea of that, though. 

"No, man, I mean," Bob started making vague gestures with his hands, "I don't feel the urge to...I'm into anyone and stuff, and just the idea of sex disgusts me. I don't know, man. I don't like to label it, it's just what it is. And what it is, I don't know yet."

"Oh." Gerard tilted his head and looked at Bob, wondering why this was just surfacing now. They could be having this conversation months ago, yet Bob decided to mention it now. When Gerard had hauled himself out of his pondering, he noticed that Bob was looking sort of scared. He decided to clarify; "that's fine with me. I'm just wondering why you've never told me until now, don't look at me scared."

"I am not, I'm just kinda worried, I guess," Bob lowered his troubled gaze to the floor and started picking on a fingernail nervously, "Mikey hasn't been answering my calls since I told him. I was worried you'd do the same."

Gerard's eyebrows met. "What are you talking about? Dude, Mikey is not answering 'cause he needs some time 'alone'. Although that's fucking bullshit, he's not alone, he's with Ray!"

"Oh," Bob's troubled expression vanished and he frowned when the realization hit him too, "wasn't he there, like, yesterday? And the day before?"


	13. Chapter 13

Frank didn't show up that next Monday at school and proceeded to ignore Gerard's calls—at least Gerard assumed so. 

He didn't show up the whole week. Neither did he the next.

And while part of Gerard wanted to go over uninvited to see him, other part of him kept him back. That was the doubtful part, the what-if-he-doesn't-want-to-see-me part, which wouldn't hold him sway if he'd made the valiant effort to think rationally. To put it simply, his logical side was caged up for a while, and when he got that text, that text in capital letters that read  _'DON'T CALL, I'LL TEXT YOU SOON'_ he got mega-excited...until he realized that it had been three days since Frank sent that. 

Consequently, that lead to Gerard coming to terms with his hopelessness and maybe over-accepting it, if there is such thing. He was maybe too melodramatic on that Saturday morning at Ray's house. Everyone was supposedly sleeping, Ray's parents were away for the weekend, and Gerard hadn't seen his own parents for two weeks. As Bob would've expected though, his mother called every day, interrogating them all (including Mikey, who wasn't as angry as much as he was taken aback) about Gerard's whereabouts, eating, and sleeping.

Gerard didn't give a fuck, in short. All he cared about was Frank. And in that Saturday morning, he sat there in the kitchen, basking in misery.

_"Well, since my baby left me—"_

He poured himself some coffee and turned the radio louder, heaving another heavy sigh. 

_"Well, I found a new place to dwell—"_

He contemplated sitting on a chair, but fuck it, he was too gloomy for normalcy right then. Sat on the cold floor instead, he mouthed along with the lyrics, his expression maintaining its dull, monotonous, oh-so-hopeless hints written all over it. 

_"Well, it's down at the end of lonely street at Heartbreak Hotel—"_

"Hopelessly romantic, huh?" Mikey walked into the room—or was there for a long time, leaning against the door-frame, but Gerard never noticed him in that tragically melancholic state. Whatever.

He looked at him blankly, not even making the effort to move one of his eyebrows, continuing to mouth the lyrics. Mikey laughed, he fucking _laughed_  at him and left. He fucking  _left_ him. Gerard sat there, thinking, trying to catch and arrange his scattered thoughts. Put an end to that anarchy going on in his head.

He liked Frank an awful lot, he'd determined that alright. And so far, that's the only progress he'd made. He wasn't really planning on analyzing farther.

Frank could as well be lying on his bed right then, thinking about Gerard too, but no, Gerard's pessimistic thinking would never conceive of that.

Instead, he condemned himself by lying on Ray's kitchen floor, drowning in gloom, hoping that he'd turn discarnate and fade away without a warrant nor a need for one. Concocting schemes in his head, lame-ass fantasies; that was all he did that morning.

In summary, it wasn't a propitious morning. Furthermore, he didn't even lay a finger on a book to study for something he was supposedly taking on Monday. What was the point? Frank wasn't going to take that test either; that was all Gerard could think about. Frank wasn't going to show up, he wasn't going to pick up the phone, and Gerard couldn't even pass by his house to see him. In other words, it would be another miserable day. 

Every day without Frank in it would be miserable.

Mikey came back again, trying in vain to pick Gerard up from the floor as he always tended to do, yelling at him and groaning: "Come on! Let's go out!"

"What's the point?" Gerard sighed woefully and exaggeratedly. 

Mikey rolled his eyes at him and continued tugging him onward by his sleeve. "Man, who are you, Ian Curtis? Just get up, goddammit, let's go see James. We haven't seen him in a long time."

"Is this a plan to get me out of the house?" Finally, that blank stare on Gerard's face broke as he rose an eyebrow. Though slight, at least he was still in control of his muscles. "You're not going to drag me home, are you?"

"Course I'm not, I'm not going back there. Now come on, you lazy oaf. Fucking John Keats, come on, or I'll make you recite the whole 'Ode to a Nightingale' thing," Mikey threatened and Gerard believed him. He got up, feeling his heart sink, and followed Mikey out of the house.

***

"—And so I got Ray to pump the story up a bit, and then fucking Mark, man, he believed it! Screw that dude," Mikey said, swinging slowly back and forth, the swing making the weird moaning, rusty sounds again, like cries. 

Gerard burst into a fit of laughter. "He seriously went to the library to search for a ghost?! What the hell, even I knew that was bullshit."

"Mark, dude," Mikey shook his head, grinning, "I guess because it's all your guys' last year, we've decided to put everything behind."

"Good idea," his brother sighed and his smile downgraded into a smirk, "you should teach me your methods. Otherwise, I'm never gonna make up with Mom."

"Hey, Mom's different. What they did was fucking corrupted, alright? Makes me feel like they're playing a prank on us or something."

"Seriously," Gerard agreed and finished up his ice cream. He looked around wistfully; last time he'd been there, it was with Frank. He shook his head, trying to shake away the chaos and disorder in his head, this time of his own volition. He knew it was for the better. "But seriously, you should teach me your methods. Otherwise, I'm never gonna stop glaring at Pete."

Mikey jerked his head up and looked at his brother wide-eyed. "You," he began and huffed disbelievingly, "want to make up with Pete Wentz?"

"Well," Gerard mused, rolling his eyes, "when you say it like that it doesn't sound so good, but I guess you could say that I don't want any more drama in my last year of high school."

"Wow. What a surprise," Mikey gasped, "the drama-queen doesn't want more drama? Could it be? Who are you and what did you do to my brother?" 

"Oh, shut up."

Mikey laughed and launched himself out of his seat to get up. He started kicking around leaves and little rocks with his feet. He turned to look at Gerard again. "What, did that Frank-dude put a spell on you or something?"

Gerard's smirk suddenly faded away.

"Wow, um, bad time?" Mikey noticed and looked around guiltily. He hoped Gerard wouldn't lie on the ground and sing Elvis Presley again, sad like Eeyore from Winnie The Pooh. 

"I just want enlightenment. Or a miracle, some sort of vital sign. Fucking hell, it's been weeks since—" His cell phone made noise and buzzed. Gerard jumped up, startled. 

Frank's ID blinked onto the screen. Frank had fucking texted him. Some facilities of Gerard's mind ceased to work right then, probably his breathing, but he couldn't care less. In that paroxysm of ecstasy and jolt, he even forgot to read the text. He looked up at his brother.

"Well," Mikey laughed and pushed his hair back snobbishly, "guess all you needed was me. I bring miracles and, what was that you said, enlightenment."

Gerard snorted, rolling his eyes, and carried on gawking at his cell phone, not believing his luck. Because, _seriously_ , since when does his luck side with him?

He read the text for himself:

_'Glade, 6 PM? Don't call. Text. I'll explain.'_

He felt his heart being twisted, clenched, and juiced like a fruit. He fired off a short 'okay' that wasn't at all adequate to portray his rapture and awe. And like that, he told Mikey he'd see him around, getting a risen eyebrow in response, and ran off. It was half-past five anyway, he needed to run if he wanted to be there at six.

Now, he didn't let any concepts overwhelm him, he'd learn what had happened soon. The important thing was that he would see Frank. Suddenly his own family's problems seemed completely inconsequential, in fact, apart from that mantra of  _Frank-Frank-Frank_  that was on his mind, everything else he deemed inconsequential. 

Not many people were out at this time, there were mostly kids playing in playgrounds with their mothers watching them intensely. That made Gerard reflect back on his childhood with his mother watching him play intensely, being scared that he'd trip and fall from somewhere. But no. Inconsequential.  _Frank-Frank-Frank._

With his rate of pace, and a bunch of stupid traffic lights that just so magically decided to turn red, he ended up arriving at the forest at exactly five fifty-seven. He took the shortcut him and Frank had taken last time and was soon hemmed in with trees that arched right over the path he followed. 

The sky above had masses of splendidly colored clouds at the approach of sunset. The sunlight barely touched the ground. It only peered at Gerard through the trees, conducting heat, as the sunbeams gently stroked his skin. But ignoring the strikingly beautiful forest, Gerard couldn't help but remark how everything else right at that moment sucked—and he wasn't going to change his mind until he'd seen Frank. 

Finally, he managed to end up in the glade, his eyes roving around and scanning for Frank. Trepidation washed over him as he thought, what if Frank doesn't up? Or worse, what if Frank showed up and told him something terrible, something that would make Gerard want to return to Ray's kitchen floor and ache mentally all over. Or even worse, what if Frank was hurt?

He spun around, twirled like a lost child, his hands dangling loosely to his sides. But all he could see was trees, everywhere pine trees, and no sign of Frank—or generally, a human being. It was six sharp right then.

He wandered around hopefully for another minute and stopped. 

Fuck, had Frank realized what he'd done to Gerard? Was it even Frank texting him earlier? It could be a mass murderer, holy fuck, if anyone had dared to kill Frank, Gerard would become  _furious_. Especially then. Fuck Elvis Presley. He'd listen to witchcraft hymns and shit. He'd end up homicidal himself.

He'd stopped spinning around, eventually, to finally notice that Frank on the other side was doing the same. 

The dork. They were equally lost.

Frank eyed Gerard from the distance. Gerard ran toward him instantly. 

"Oh, Gerard," Frank muttered, looking wistful.

And okay, Frank honestly did not expect Gerard to fling himself at him. Frank thought that Gerard would start scolding and yelling at him for not showing up once, actually. But even then, Frank determined, Gerard would have every right to.

The hug lingered, Gerard didn't want to let go. Frank didn't combat it either, words were redundant anyway—well, kind of. 

Gerard pulled away after a while because okay, whoa, he didn't want to go too far. He didn't want to ruin this with his uncontrolled emotions, okay?

He focused on Frank's right eye. It was fucking bruised.

"Fucking hell, Frank—"

"I know," he cut Gerard off, meaning to explain why he was gone for  _two_  whole weeks, but then later realized that Gerard was more concerned about his eye. "Oh, what? My eye? Yeah, don't worry, it's fine now—fuck, I know what you're gonna say."

"I don't think you—" Gerard didn't get to speak.

"I know, it's been two weeks and I could at least call. But  _nooo,_  I was too busy fucking  _boxing_ and I'm sorry—"

"I missed you." Gerard's timing may have been a bit off because he did want to hear what Frank had to say, but that declaration would've never come out of him if not then. He made gestures with his hands, telling Frank to continue. "That's all. Go on, I'm sorry."

Frank stared blankly for a moment, not sure of what to say. He scratched the back of his neck and looked down nervously, "Oh, um. Me too, Gerard. I mean, uh,  I thought about the, um—yeah. I missed you too. In summary."

Gerard drew in a quavering breath and tried to conceal it with a wide grin. Needless to say, the grin faded away pretty quickly. It didn't feel sincere anyway. "What the hell happened?" he asked eventually. 

Frank stopped looking around and eyed Gerard seriously, "Something bad. Like, bad  _bad_. Man, I don't want to say this—you remember my cousins, right? I don't want you to think that I'm the same or anything, just because we're related and—"

"Whoa," Gerard stopped him there, holding his hands up and frowning, feeling kind of indignant because, seriously, who would think that? He'd never even thought of that before. Mostly when he thought of Frank it's always...well, it kind of depended on the time and place. "I'd never think that, Christ."

"Good, because, um...You're not gonna like what you hear, man, I don't know if you'll even believe it. It's absurd as hell, but hey, remember those gunshots back then when we first met?"

Gerard reflected back and squinted. "Yeah?"

"Well," Frank's eyebrows met in worry, "that was my uncle. He has killed someone and, if I've sussed that correctly, my father's trying to cover him or something insane like that. Remember that time you woke up in the middle of the night!—fucking fuck my life, Jesus, I feel like I'm in the fucking mafia now or something. And it's fucking scary, man."

Gerard froze.  _Fuck_. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gerard couldn't believe how offhanded and calm Frank was acting right then. Hell, he could've been dead. Holy shit, Frank could've  _died_. And what was going to happen then? Gerard would possibly jump off a fucking cliff.

Whatever was going to happen between them in the future, regardless of romantic or not, he was  _not_  going to let Frank die, no, that's for sure.

Back to reality, Gerard shook his head wildly and struggled to fathom what Frank had just said:

"So, what you're trying to tell me is...that your uncle's a fucking murderer—an assassin, however. What the  _hell,_  Frank."

"I appreciate the fact that you differentiate us," Frank replied and grinned falsely.

"What the  _hell_ ," Gerard repeated, "dude, you're not going back in there. Man, I don't care what you say, I'm not gonna let you die."

Frank snorted loudly and folded his arms. "I'm not going to die, Gerard. He can't kill me."

"Frank," Gerard said to catch his attention and propose the obvious, "we need to call the fucking police, man."

Frank laughed. He just laughed as if it wasn't such a big deal.

"You reckon I haven't already?" He stopped his laughing and shook his head at his failure. "They know everyone, Gerard, that's why I told you to come out in the freaking woods." Gerard felt a weird feeling engulf his body, something unbearable. Something heavy on his shoulders, something that would leave him stranded. Definitely something he'd felt before. "You know what this means, huh?" Frank lowered his gaze, trying to conceal the sorrow on his face. 

"No fucking way, man, in your  _wildest_  dreams!" It was Gerard's turn to laugh. What Frank was proposing now was, without question, illogical. "If you think that I'm going to let you all alone in this, you're an idiot. Come on, Sherlock, you definitely need a Watson by your side. You know what he'd be without him? Dead, that's right, now, come on, we're going over at my house. You're not going back there."

"Gerard, this is as serious as it gets. I'm being serious," Frank scowled. 

"Me too," Gerard pursed his lips, "why? Did you detect any sarcasm on my face? No, I'm not kidding. You're staying with me from now and on."

Okay, there were two things that Gerard was completely, and in full awareness let's mention, ignoring. The one thing was that perhaps Frank had a justifiable reason to stay where he was, and secondly, let's not forget that Gerard was blurting out nonsense when he said "we're going over at my house" because, let's not forget, Gerard couldn't go back to his house. And even where he was currently staying, at Ray's that is, he slept on the floor with Bob. Only Mikey and Ray shared the bed. 

Maybe they could stay outside, in the woods or something. Gerard proposed that bluntly without shame.

"Gerard, you bushwhacker, as much as I want to spend forever with you in this forest, I can't," Frank laughed, "I don't want to put you in danger or anything, and plus..."

"Plus? Plus what, Frank? What? What could be more important than your life?"

"I can't just go!" Frank kicked his foot on the ground, baffling Gerard. "I-I still have to find out what happened to my mother. And the only potential way is through him. Don't you get it?"

Of course, that made sense, why was Gerard only getting that now? Frank wasn't leaving his father in hope for some enlightenment on where his mother was. After all, he'd said before that he didn't know. 

Well, if Frank wasn't leaving and Gerard wasn't leaving Frank, there was only one choice left—and he'd talk Frank into consenting eventually.

Gerard nodded, understanding. "Okay."

"Okay?" Frank frowned but nodded, feeling sort of sorrowful. He expected Gerard to agree on not seeing him again eventually, but hell, not that quickly. It made him feel like garbage right then, Gerard was throwing him away too quickly and he couldn't let go. He knew he was being greedy and needy.

To his surprise, though, Gerard was agreeing on the exact opposite:

"Yeah, okay. I'm gonna help. What? There's no escaping me now, Iero. Now come on, let's walk this way. There's an owl behind you staring at me pretty threateningly and it's quite unnerving."

***

The sun was just about to drain away into the horizon like every evening, and dusk was skirting the sky, puzzling it by changing the colors gradually. It was like an argument between the three Godmothers of the sleeping beauty—pretty captivating in live action. Gerard and Frank had found a pretty good spot deep into the woods to sit down and look at the blue-turning sky. 

Explaining to Frank what had happened and where he was staying these two weeks, Gerard felt like he needed to make a movie. Fucking seriously.  _Daddy Issues, A Story About (Didn't You Read the Title?) Daddy Issues_. It was like the universe was mocking them. Gerard avoided pondering existence and why this was happening, for now at least, because, for now at least, he had Frank by his side, unlike yesterday and the week before.

And okay, maybe Frank was doing it unintentionally, but he had his hand on Gerard's thigh, and fuck, Gerard couldn't concentrate.

"Great, so we're both goners. Good to know," Frank lingered on the subject of college. "Didn't you say you applied to a bunch of schools?"

"I, uh..." Gerard craned his neck and looked up, trying to ignore Frank's hand which was definitely not unintentionally there, okay, he was even smirking at him, "I did—k-kind of—my mother did. I don't know, I just don't feel like doing something with my life. Y'know, career-related stuff sounds so boring. I just want to draw for the rest of my life and maybe get a dog."

"I mean, that tops everything I have to say, man. High standards you have there," Frank giggled delightfully, snatching his hand back from Gerard's thigh. What a tease. "I'll agree with you on the dog part. But plural. Dogs."

"And what about your living?" Gerard raised an eyebrow and sighed. God. It would be greedy of him to say that he'd like Frank's hand back on his thigh, wouldn't it?

"Dunno. Time will tell. Journalism wouldn't be a bad idea, though, or photography, or whatever. It doesn't matter what you do, not as much as who you're with."

Gerard nodded, taking in what Frank had just said. "Time will tell, huh?" 

"Time will tell," Frank repeated. He looked over at Gerard who was pretending to look away, avoiding eye contact. He sighed to himself exasperatedly. "You know, Gerard, you're really darn confusing."

"Pfft," Gerard scoffed, too lost in his own thoughts to understand what Frank was talking about, "I'll say."

And maybe he was too preoccupied with internally cursing at himself to notice that Frank was gawking at him, pushing a certain subject here. Gerard was brutally picking at the grass, uprooting it—freaking grass harassment. That should be prohibited, he thought but carried on picking on it like an insane grass enthusiast or something.

Frank rolled his eyes at him, and that was when Gerard decided to turn and look at him. At last.

"You know there's something we still haven't talked about," Gerard attempted to begin in return and stopped molesting the poor grass. "There's a whole lot of things we haven't talked about, but there's something, in particular, I keep dwelling on."

"Wonder what that may be," Frank said, tone dripping with sarcasm. He decided to tease Gerard, his hand crawling up his thigh again. Okay, now that Frank knew what he was talking about, Gerard didn't know what to say. He'd started boldly and blatantly, alright, but now he was proven to be unsure of what to do next.

It was all an idea in his head, he thought. He should just ignore his insecurities and timidity, but well, easier said than done. How was he going to build up to saying what he wanted? 

Frank looked away after a while and tried to hide his sigh. He looked kind of disenchanted. As though he knew what he wanted and was willing to wait for Gerard's call. Gerard tilted his head and stared at him. 

Frank shrugged, looking back at Gerard and forcing a smile. "Time will tell, I guess."

Gerard shook his head once. 

He only then came to the realization that time was running now and if time would tell, it would start from now. Every part of him let him go, let him decide what he wanted to do right then. 

He pressed his lips to Frank's, he kissed him there, slowly and passionately, and holy fuck, his heart was pounding like he'd run an entire marathon. 

It wasn't like the last kiss, or anything like those kisses in that morning when his head felt like it was going to explode. This was different, slow and soothing; he could feel  _everything_ right then. The wind blowing cool against his cheek, the grass beneath him, his fingers brushing Frank's cheek gently.

Perhaps Frank was right. Maybe time would tell. Or maybe time had already told them.


	14. Chapter 14

Right when they were about to part, Gerard's 'what if's started buzzing and colliding with his deeds in his head. He finally caught on, he envisioned, and came to the realization; he couldn't just let Frank go. There had to be a way to get him to stay. Some way.

So, he held Frank's hands in his and began speaking whatever random gibberish popped up in his mind, puzzling the fuck out of Frank. 

"What are you doing?" he frowned at Gerard, unable to even approximate a smile right then.

Gerard interrupted his yapping to look innocently at Frank. "Reciting Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet? I had to learn this in tenth grade and I still remember it."

"Yeah, but," Frank shook his head in confusion, "why? I mean, I need to get home now, Gerard. You can recite Shakespeare at Monday in class, don't you think?"

"No, see, that's what I'm telling you," Gerard sighed and clutched Frank's hands tightly in his, "you can't go. I'm miserable. And after all, he isn't home anyway. Don't fucking leave, Frank, just come with me and whatever happens, we bear together."

"Gerard, what the hell are you talking about? Did you take anything?" Frank's eyebrows met, confusion dissolving into plain sadness. Gerard was playing games, he knew Frank couldn't come with him. Well, at least so Frank thought. "We talked about this, like, an hour ago. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, exactly, and we agreed that you won't push me away no more," Gerard stated with a smile brimming with hope.

"When did we agree on that?!" Frank's upper lip curled, his eyes wide. He truly wished Gerard was joking; it would save them both a lot of discomfort. Gerard, on the other hand, wasn't of the same mind.

"Frank," he squinted and stared at Frank seriously, "are you okay? We talked about this, like, what, an hour ago? Don't you remember?"

"Now you're just fucking with me," Frank complained, looking away seemingly sullenly, but in reality, he was just plain heartsick. Gerard sank to his knees, not breaking the eye contact with him.

"Et tu, Brute?" he shouted dramatically, holding the back of his one hand to his forehead. 

"That's from Julius Caesar, you dork," Frank pointed out and finally managed to smile, though a crooked smile it was. "The last words are 'thus, with a kiss, I die,' you know."

Gerard stood up slowly, waving it off. "Whatever," he paused and eyed Frank, imploring him in a way. He couldn't go. Gerard fiercely refused to go back to his draining misery. He fiercely refused to go back to Ray's kitchen floor. Frank couldn't just go; he had to convince him.

In order to do so, and drawing in a deep breath, he said briskly, "Come with me?"

In despair, Frank's eyes darted around anxiously. On one hand, if anything happened to Gerard it would be his fault, and he would never be able to make peace with himself. That's partially why he never made many friends, but oh well, that had happened now. Good grief, Frank was so naive, and the fact that he knew it made it even worse. He wasn't trying to fix things, he'd made a botch of the only thing he was supposed to do. Stay away.

Now it was too late to make amends, and moreover, now it was too late to un-like Gerard. He simply liked him too much, for no apparent reason—or maybe for too many reasons he didn't want to go through right then; it would be a reminder of how much he'd messed things up.

Dammit, the best he could do right then was to preserve his sanity and maintain his friendship with Gerard, which, above all, mattered the most to him. He didn't care about being beaten to death, as long as he had Gerard. He kind of had this therapeutic effect on Frank, to be candid.

And good God, Frank realized, since when did he think of mushy and sappy things like that? Gerard's friendship was therapeutic. Pfft. Kindergarten.

But, all in all, still true.

Frank shook his head wildly and looked back to Gerard's pleading, worried eyes.

"Gerard," he managed to say eventually, still with a heavy heart. He frowned to himself for a moment, rethinking the sentence he had planned out in his head and, in the last flash of a minute, pushed it aside nonchalantly. "Thanks," he said instead. "By that, I mean to say, yeah. Okay."

Gerard's face lit up all of a sudden, extinguishing every single one of Frank's plans to make a romantic confession right then and there, and thank God, really. It was way too soon for that.

"Oh my god! Really? I didn't think I'd finally get you to consent!" Gerard exclaimed happily, jolting back in surprise. "I thought I'd have to camp out of your house and wait days or something. You're so stubborn, you know that?"

Frank huffed, trying to cloak his exhilaration by rolling his eyes. "You're a dork, you know that?"

And so, they began heading off to Ray's house. For how long Gerard would be living there, he did not know. His anathematized fuckhead father would probably still be lodging home, God knows for how much longer. Didn't he get married after Gerard's mother, anyway, what's up with that? Gerard would either go back one day to purvey his damned curiosity with more information and context, or he would go back to take his stuff and leave forever.

Although his rationality was becoming less and less cloudy as days went by, and remorse started to kick in instead, he knew nothing would be the same. After all, probably in less than a year, he'd pack his bags for college, so things would change inevitably and indubitably anyway. Unless he last-minute decided to take a year off, which would worsen things, since he didn't want to live in the same house as his father now.

On their way back to Ray's, Gerard's eyes looked fixedly down at the sidewalk with yellow ripples of lights from the lamp posts. He occasionally looked up when a car passed by, internally wishing that the driver would get out and offer them a ride to far-far away. Maybe even grant them the car and walk off. Gerard could drive, he could manage—well, sort of; he could use some advice for remembrance.

They could drive far away, far away from everyone. Shape their lives into a Smiths song. What was holding them back? Well, Gerard couldn't really tell. Perhaps high school.

Treading onward, he held Frank's hand tightly, stroking it gently and playing with his fingers, something that he hadn't even realized he was doing. He was too lost in thought, musing, imagining what a life away from this damned town would be.

"Do you trust me?" he suddenly asked Frank, inadvertently, under his own thoughts' hypnosis. 

Frank pursed his lips and huffed before Gerard had the time to take it back. "Do you want me to?" he asked back. Well, since that talk had started, might as well continue it, Gerard thought.

"I don't know," he answered earnestly, "I feel like I'm making the worst choices sometimes. I want you to trust me. But not my choices, if that makes sense. I'm shit at making decisions."

"Are you talking about something specific right now, or should I stop assuming?" Frank inquired, smirking slightly and clenching Gerard's hand when he noticed how distracted and troubled he looked. He stopped their walking and eyed Gerard, reaching out to touch his chin. "Hey, hey," he whispered soothingly and Gerard finally looked at him, "even if you make bad choices, everything can be fixed, right? Nothing really is impossible."

Gerard's eyes got distracted with another bypassing car. He bit his lip and couldn't help but pinpoint out Frank's sudden change of heart, "Well, that's a sudden change. And anyway, I think I've already fucked up. I'm never going home now, my mom must be so angry, hell, if I show up she'll probably toss me a suitcase and tell me to back the fuck off."

"Oh, come on, don't be ridiculous, she's your mom. I mean, I don't know much about these things, but I'm sure she wouldn't do anything like that. Imagine: she's torn between two sides. Her son's and husband's," Frank rolled his eyes, trying to drag Gerard into thinking clearly again. 

"Ex-husband," Gerard corrected bitterly, "and she wouldn't be if she'd decided what she wanted a long time ago. Fucking hell, what am I babbling about? I've fucked up harder."

"I think you should talk to her," Frank suggested, much like Bob had done two weeks before. And Ray. And Mikey. Okay, maybe they all had a point, Gerard gave in eventually. Frank leaned forward and left a kiss on his right cheek, smiling, causing another issue to resurface in Gerard's head. 

What all this meant, them kissing, they still hadn't determined explicitly. Although their minds had already reached a decision, nothing was validated aloud, only 'time will tell' and that was starting to genuinely confuse Gerard a bit. 

He'd decided that the label 'boyfriends' didn't really fit; it sounded lame and absurd. And anyway, how was he supposed to know what all this meant when he, in fact, had moreover even failed at drawing a conclusion on the subject of 'love'. Because, really, what is 'love' and what is 'being in love'? All that incoherent bullshit about love makes it sound like love's a minefield that you fall in, are in, and leave or die in. Just the idea of it is stifling. 

Is there an alternative? What about 'compassion'? 'Compatibility'? No, to Gerard, that sounded like the Grease song, 'We Go Together Like Ramalamadingdong'. Or perhaps that was it. Maybe that's all love is. 

But all of a sudden, it seemed like it had just occurred to him. Maybe they didn't need to come to a decision yet; they had time ahead of them. Gerard didn't really quarrel with the idea of them never finding out, either. So long as they were on each other's side.

Still, he dwelled, how on earth was he going to make up with his mother?

***

A week at Ray's house passed peacefully and uneventfully...for everyone except Gerard, that is. Gerard was agitated, puzzled, and troubled, most of the time. His mother called quite frequently, requesting to speak to Gerard, to which he, of course, abjured. Every single time she called. It was gradually wearing him out.

But ignoring that, Gerard and Frank were so absorbed in their search for Frank's mother, almost everywhere; Yellow Pages, yearbooks, they even asked people like Gerard's grandma. But so far, the only thing they managed to find was her old house location, which Frank knew about. They even missed school days and, eventually, Mikey, Ray, and Bob got into the search as well, not really knowing who they were searching for and why. Thankfully, they kindly never interrogated.

Ray, Mikey, and Bob had grown really fond of Frank, and slowly Frank had grown less and less timid. Of course, all of them acting like Gerard's brothers, they didn't hold back on teasing Gerard  _constantly_. Sometimes even in front of Frank, which didn't really annoy Frank; he just giggled heartily, whereas Gerard turned into the shade of a fucking tomato. Well, he figured he had to get them back at that, one day.

That February Sunday night, Gerard had just realized that he'd been away from home for three weeks. His stomach felt like it was being twisted for a second. Remorse engulfed his tired body. 

"You okay, Gee?" Bob glanced at him through his bangs, lifting his eyes from the page of a book for a second and then dropping them back down again. "You look sorta pale, I'd tell you to go take a shower, but I think Ray and Mikey are hooking up there. Jesus. What else would be taking them so long?"

"Oh, no. What did I miss again?" Gerard sighed and squinted his eyes, unsure of whether he wanted to know or not. And he'd thought that seeing Mikey with that dude, Joe, was weird. Hell, being three weeks in the same house with a love-struck couple who were trying to hide it—and were totally failing, let's also mention—made his skin crawl. God, he had to put this behind him and simply come to terms with it, sooner or later.

"Oh, nothing, the usual, dude. I mean, you can't really blame 'em. We're kinda blocking their way by being around all the damn time," Bob pointed out rightly, turning a page and carrying on skimming the next one. He leisurely got up after a while and announced his departure, as well as his arrival tomorrow in the early morning. 

He grabbed his jacket, hugged Frank and Gerard goodbye, and left the room, whistling.

Gerard sighed and dropped his gaze to his own book again, a catalog of doctors in Jersey that he'd left flipped open at the letter 'I'. He scanned the couple first lines cursorily and gave up. 

Frank looked at him and, perhaps for the hundredth time that week, he told Gerard guiltily that he didn't have to do anything like this. As though Gerard wasn't already notified. He let Frank know once more that he was doing this of his own volition and hoped that Frank would stop fussing over it, at last.

Frank collapsed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Gerard's waist, sighing heavily. "Thank you," he said, perhaps for the thousandth time this week.

Gerard stroked his head, running his hand through his hair, fingers scratching gently. "Stop saying that, for fuck's sake, I swear I'll..."

Frank raised his head, glancing at him through his hair, and said impatiently, "Yes? You'll what?"

"Fucking—" Gerard looked down at him, smiling blissfully, "make out with you, you cute fuck."

Frank smirked wickedly, raising one eyebrow. He locked his arms around Gerard's neck, bringing his mouth in front of his but not kissing him, the tease he was. Gerard whined beseechingly and Frank smiled triumphantly, then, pressed a quick kiss on his mouth.

"You razz—" Gerard tried to mutter out but was interrupted by a proper kiss this time, slow and sweet, and somehow comfortable, even in the uncomfortable position they were in on Ray's bed. 

Gerard managed to make the kiss more fierce and raw, tangling and pushing his tongue against Frank's, lowering his hands and—

"Whoa," Mikey exclaimed when he walked into the room, holding his hands up. Fucking hell. Gerard was never going to get some alone time with Frank, was he? Well, that's pretty fair, considering that they were in Ray's house and in Ray's room. "You go, guys, relish the pleasure. Now I know what to get for Gee's birthday, a fucking tube of lube. Or a massive track, y'know, there's no such thing as too much lube. No such thing. Mhm."

Frank turned fifty shades of red, looking away embarrassed and unlatching himself from Gerard. Gerard, on the other hand, wasn't at the slightest embarrassed. He was repelled by Mikey's lame-ass joke and Mikey could see that very clearly. He didn't stop, however.

"Not on that bed, though. That's reserved. I don't know what you're gonna do, man, go make up with Mom and you'll have access to your bed, or whatever," Mikey went on teasing, Gerard gaping at him disbelievingly, wondering how much he had of those jokes left, "show Frank that sexy bee costume grandma made you in elementary school, will you? Mhmm, so sexy, it's orgasmic."

"Mikey,  _seriously_ ," Gerard massaged his forehead in exasperation, not knowing how much more of this he could take before his head snapped off his neck, "you're such a fail."

Mikey wiggled his eyebrows, winking at them knowingly. Frank still had trouble finding his natural paleness, after having turned all of the colors off the red shade card from an interior design store. He finally settled on somewhere between crimson- and candy-red. Gerard continued rolling his eyes, his own bitter irony nearly stung him.

"I think we can both agree on that you didn't get the sense of humor from me," he stated, laughing sardonically. "Don't mind him, Frank, he's just sexually frustrated. He can't have sex with his boyfriend while we're around, you see."

At last, Mikey walked out of the room, groaning in the hallway and cursing Gerard for being 'such a blockage' in his sexual life or whatever. Gerard just chuckled maliciously for a while, until he noticed that Frank was still the shade of red he was before. 

"Oh, come on, he's just joking. And anyway, they're probably getting ready to go out or whatever. You hungry?" he asked, sweeping all of Frank's shame under a rug.

"Sure." And Frank just went on with it, gulping once. The redness began to fade away from his face, his paleness returning evident. He bit his lip and scurried after Gerard who'd already headed down to Ray's kitchen.

Gerard waited patiently for Ray and Mikey to leave, rocking back and forth on his heels. He wore an ironic smile and often got one as a response from his brother who was constantly teasing him and grossing him out by kissing Ray's cheek. Ray didn't seem to mind, he was too preoccupied talking to his mother on the phone who had just announced their arrival in two days. 

Well, that sort of pushed things, reminding Gerard of how he soon should get the lead out and return home—with Frank, of course. The question remained in his head: how does he achieve that in an effortless manner; without much squabbling and blabbering, if at all possible. Probably implausible.

He wondered where that spirit of his had gone, the spirit Frank had summoned by telling him "nothing really is impossible". Darn, Gerard had had that spirit before in him, where the hell did it vanish? 

He waited until Mikey and Ray had left before throwing a frozen pizza into the oven and looking around for drinks. "Damn, Ray's got an obsession with Arizona tea he never shared with us," he pointed out, fumbling the kitchen counters. "Betrayal. Want some Coke?"

"Mhm," Frank nodded and took the can Gerard handed him. They settled down around the kitchen table, opposite from each other, and drank from their cans, waiting for the pizza to bake.

Gerard collected his thoughts, checking the time. "Okay, we'll do this twenty-minute break and then go back to  _work_."

"Jesus. Work? You really think we'll find something, don't you?" Frank asked, not ironically or anything, just inquisitive and desiring some motivation. It wasn't like they would find out everything in catalogs and yearbooks. And say they did, though highly unlikely in Frank's opinion, what would they do with that information? It wasn't like they could run after what they'd find. 

They were two eighteen-year-olds in the midst of their senior year—okay, maybe closer than in the midst of it. 

But still, Frank didn't think, his mind couldn't conceive of something as odd as that happening. 

Gerard raised his can and shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, world's small, man."

"Falsehood," Frank banged his fist on the kitchen table rebelliously, "the world is colossal. The world we live in is only a bit smaller."

"Oh, we're going that deep," Gerard laughed, gnawing on his bottom lip and looking sideways at Frank. He got up to check on the food as Frank shook his head wildly, shaking his deep pestering thoughts away.

"No, we're stopping here, this is far too stimulating," Frank demanded and ended the subject matter there, potentially convening the silence. Not that that bothered any of them; it was a relaxing kind of silence. And when Frank was amid reflecting back on that bizarre week, pondering and fathoming how fast but also how delightfully a whole week had passed, he remembered, "Gerard?"

"Arthur," Gerard replied on the spur of the moment, glancing sideways at Frank from the corner of his eyes. He bent down and stared at the oven instead, as if the pizza was going to catch fire if he didn't look at it intensely.

Frank frowned. "What?"

"My middle name," Gerard explained and laughed nervously, acting as if that information added to their intimacy or something, "you asked me what my middle name was a while ago. So, y-yeah, there you go. Now you know."

"Arthur, huh? I don't suppose you'd like me to call you that, judging by how nervous you look right now," Frank presumed justly, scratching his chin.

"My mom uses the middle name when she's mad, so, I'd appreciate if you didn't," Gerard addressed, trying hard not to think of Frank calling him by his middle name in bed. Gosh. Still enticing because it was Frank, but also kind of off-putting because Gerard's middle name made him sound like a man from the 1800's.

"You sound like a French poet, what the heck. Mine's Anthony. Freaking Anthony. But then again, I can't really complain 'cause I like Frank," he paused and mused, still failing to notice that Gerard was making weird faces to himself, now thinking about him calling Frank 'Anthony' in bed. Risqué. "Imagine if my parents had called me Frank Victor Iero, like, it resembles Victor Henry Frankenstein kinda. Kinda. Fucking rad. Damn, that went to waste! Gerard, are you listening?"

"Ugh," Gerard, wide-eyed, slapped himself internally to spring back to reality and quit fabricating fantasies. "Yeah. Right. Anyway, what was that thing you wanted to ask me earlier?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank sat up on his seat, cogitating for a moment before putting words together. "I'm kinda late but...why did you ask me if I trusted you? Y'know, about a week ago?"

Still slightly dazed and sedated by the narcotizing—though still ridiculous as fuck, he'd determined—fantasies, Gerard gradually managed to reflect back on the time Frank was referring to. 

He hardly recalled why he'd asked Frank that ambiguous question. He probably was, most likely, lost in thought once again, probably looking at the bypassing cars had given him an idea. His mind had probably hatched a certain elaborate scheme so quickly that it was too impossible for Gerard to conceive right then. But then, why would he ask Frank something like that? 

Except if he was making some sort of Aladdin reference, he must have had something in his mind, specifically. Bypassing cars, Gerard thought. Road. On their way. Drive far away, far away from everyone? Shape their lives into a Smiths song. 

"Ohhh," Gerard smiled to himself, finally remembering. The smile disappeared almost immediately.

That was it. Gerard was rather disappointed at himself. He'd thought about running away; something that is as stupid as it is implausible and impossible. That shit only happens in movies. 

"Oh, it was nothing," he answered genuinely and waved it off. He then proceeded to take the pizza out of the oven, serving it on two plates, and taking it upstairs to Ray's room with Frank. 


	15. Chapter 15

High-pitched laughter that unpleasantly echoed in the classroom ensued. Gerard, as usual, didn't bother joining in with the rest of the class. He sat there sighing and rubbing the spot between his eyebrows to sustain what was left of his tranquility, combating a scream in his chest.

"For Christ's sake, Mark!" Mr. Johnson exclaimed, not as amused as the rest of the class. "Jeopardy is not a country!"

"Yeah, _Mark,_ " Brendon cut in, his voice leaking sarcasm and warning about another dumb-joke-bomb that he was about to throw. "Jeopardy is obviously a fucking TV show."

And there they go again _,_ Gerard thought, squinting at the sound of the loud laughter that abruptly broke out again, almost deafening him. He wondered why everyone had burst out laughing again. Jesus Christ, Brendon's joke wasn't even funny this time.

"Enough! I said enough! Goodness gracious, children. Most of you are graduating in less than four months. Have some decorum. Mark, my boy, you certainly seem like you want to achieve something now, don't you?" Mr. Johnson's eyes flooded with the hope that Mark wouldn't drop another hogwash once again. Jesus, Gerard thought, Jeopardy; a fucking country. Mark had the opportunity to call it a leap of leopards or jaguars, yet he let it go to waste. What a shame.

"Yes, sir," Mark replied, grinning broadly. 

"There we go! And what is it you wish to achieve?" Mr. Johnson leaned forward, returning to his sanguine, jolly self. 

"He wants to be a porn star!" Brendon, apparently, couldn't keep it in anymore, despite Ryan's attempts to keep his mouth shut. The room once again flooded with the sound of hysterical laughter, as Mr. Johnson shook his head disapprovingly and fixed his ritzy bow-tie. Mark stretched himself to throw Brendon a playful slap, prompting him to say: "Alright, alright. So do I!"

"Urie and Campbell! Would you two kindly quit it? I've had enough of you, Christ," the teacher said with a hidden savagery behind his tone, which incited the class to make a collective, extended 'ohhh' noise. They all looked like monkeys to Gerard. Well, who knows, perhaps they still hadn't evolved from Australopithecus to Homo Sapiens. Someone should inform them they were a few evolutions behind, that's unhealthy.

Gerard propped his chin on his hand, hunched forward, his face simply read; tired of this class's shit. Maybe, though beyond any bounds of possibility, more tired than Mr. Johnson's shit. And since he was the only one to keep a straight face in the room, he should've known; he was the easiest target. 

"You, Jared," Mr. Johnson directed his full attention to Gerard, making him sit up in agitation. Gerard's name rarely was heard in class, and when it was, it was certainly false. Notwithstanding, this time, Gerard opted not to address the teacher's mistake and move on. "You must certainly have something in mind!"

"Sir?" Gerard said bewildered and shrugged his shoulders.

Mr. Johnson observed his students with apprehension, as if he carried some sort of burden on his weak shoulders. He yelled, "Youths! What have you been doing this entire year? You must understand, you've got one chance in this life. Do not throw it away. There must be someone in this room with some cognizance!"

The laughter ceased, and the old man's eyes roved around as none of the students spoke.

"Do not waste your life away, hear me," he said in despair as if, for once, he was solemn. Gerard leaned forward, for once in his life interested in Mr. Johnson's rants. "Time slips from your fingers like a glass, and before you know it, you'll be fifty and too late. I plead of you, think reasonably. Think now and don't do anything else if you wish, but think! You must deem this critical. Children, this is crucial. You get one chance, you hear? You will be sorry if you have the misfortune to be late."

The bell rang, but Gerard did not stir. He let his gaze drop down as everyone else exited the room. He thought about the old man's words of solemnity. Frank waited for him in a corner, prompting by calling his name, but it was no use. 

 _You will be sorry_ , echoed again and again in his murky mind. 

And though what was going in Gerard's mind had not much to do with college—contrary to Mr. Johnson's intentions—he finally was motivated and figured; it was about time to make peace with his mother.

***

"You're leaving, Gee?" Ray asked worriedly, furrowing his eyebrows and observing Gerard as he tidied around, placing away his pile of blankets from the floor. "You know you can stay, Mom and Dad don't mind having you guys around."

"I appreciate it, but it's not only that, man," Gerard addressed, looking at the, uncluttered now, corner where he used to sleep in. Rubbing his hands together, he turned around to eye his friend. "I need to talk to my mom."

"Oh," Ray drew out when the realization hit him. "Well, I hope you don't mind Frank's staying. I promised I'd show him my vinyl collection. And horror movies. The dude's full of surprises, man."

Gerard smiled, Ray's words playing out again in his head. "Yeah, I know. Just pick up if I call, alright?"

"You're bailing out on us, Way?" Bob chimed in, rushing into the room when the news reached his ears. He bent over and panted, hands on knees as if he'd been running. "Can't fucking believe it. These weeks were like that summer, two years ago."

"Bob, I'm just going to confront the mess at home. I'm most likely going to come back. If not, then you certainly are." 

While Bob had been acting like a mournful mother who'd just lost her child as if Gerard was leaving for the military or whatever, Gerard took off for his house. He sometimes turned to glance over his shoulder at the Toro household in the distance. Internally thinking  _this is fucking nuts, how am I going to do this_  as he plodded onward, he omitted taking notice of the blooming trees around him.

The approximation of March had delayed this year, due to the lovely and not-so-lovely events of February. And as Mr. Johnson had said earlier that day, Gerard—as well as Frank and Ray—had four, if not less, months until graduation. What a splendidly pleasant thought to have in mind. No, not unnerving at all. 

Ha. He was terrified and unready.

Sooner or later, that thought would eat him up, swallow him whole, and waft him into the unknown black-hole of existential woes and worries. Because nothing,  _nothing_ , Gerard could think of as an occupation excited him for life. Apart from art, his friends, and Frank, but none of these things could be linked with some profession. Art? Well, he was from a young age told that artists have no future, so there was obviously no use in trying, was there?

Perhaps that was his future, though: no future. None. A vacancy, a lifetime of nothingness, an existence without purpose nor a rationale. Or perhaps not. Perhaps his future was something far-out, something he'd never imagined as a child. Perhaps his future somehow intertwined head and heart. 

And that was what Gerard was absorbed in for the rest of the walk home. Thinking about existence—and Frank wearing his clothes. And those subjects didn't really link with each other but, fucking hell; Frank looked adorable in Gerard's clothes. He'd been wearing them from the time they moved into Ray's, since he didn't bring any clothes with him. But that was not a problem in the slightest.

When Gerard finally arrived home, the sun had passed the epidemic of a golden color to the clouds as it set. Gerard wandered around outside his house leisurely, still contemplating whether he should go in or go back to Ray's. About a few minutes later, he looked up to the sky beseechingly, muttering and cursing aimlessly, as though he awaited someone to descend from the sky and instruct him.

That said, he finally opted to step inside and start figuring stuff out from then. 

Nevertheless, even when he stepped inside the house sheepishly, he procrastinated figuring stuff out even further.

A noise coming from the living room worked as yet another one justification to procrastinate it even further on. He heard his mother shout from the room, asking who's there, which indicated her being unaware of Gerard's arrival, hence her shock when she met his eyes.

Gerard dropped his keys on the hallway rack and sighed. 

"G-Gerard, um," his mother stuttered and hesitated coming closer, "I wasn't expecting you. Hello, um...can I...c-can I hug you?"

Inexplicably, Gerard suddenly flung himself at his mother, clenching his eyes shut and burying his face in her shoulder. His resigned face was inadequate to illustrate how glad he was that his mother wasn't angry. He had expected and prepared himself mentally for her outburst of rage, her squabbling and yelling. 

But when he was met with the exact opposite, he was relieved and liberated from any anxiety. 

Muffled apologies escaped his mouth next, as his mother made soothing sounds and stroked his hair gently, trying to pacify him as well as herself. And that hug lingered for quite a while, since nobody was there to stop it. And thank Lord, his father wasn't home right then, otherwise this would've gone completely differently.

 

 

"That's your decision," Gerard said quietly after a while, watching drizzles fall soundlessly on the pane of the kitchen window. He had now calmed down unequivocally. "Let's be real here, I'm gonna leave next year anyway, this house will be entirely yours and Mikey's. I won't be living here anymore."

"That doesn't mean it won't be your home, Gerard. Regardless of where you are, honey, I don't care if that's Africa or Australia, whatever; this will always be your home. And that means that you have a say in whatever change and decision has been taken or will be taken here," his mother asserted rightly, leaning forward to stroke her son's hand. 

Gerard wished to change the subject, let whatever needed adjustment to be adjusted by time. Let time decide. After all, they'd drawn their attention to that problem for three hours, if not more. And if that wasn't enough, what was? 

And in that convenient silence that had fallen upon them, it just hit him like a bucket of ice cubes; the lie he'd told his mother about Frank wasn't a lie anymore. Fascinating, how opinions, and hearts, and people change—and well, words. Well, one weight less to carry on his shoulders. A problem had just turned into vapor; disappearing completely. 

Gerard, as if he'd just seen a real-life unicorn, beamed up and, of course, that motivated his mother to beam up as well. He then proceeded to speak of Frank, so freely, so zealously. Goddammit, for him, truthfulness felt like a heavenly wonderful thing. Being literally unchained from the restraints that held him back.

And in that jolt of ecstasy, on fucking cloud nine, Gerard decided to call Frank over. Or maybe...he would so the next day, he thought, reminding himself of Ray's words.

"Damn you, Ray, and your collection of posters and horror movies," Gerard muttered to himself as he went up the stairs and headed to his room, hoping that it wouldn't be as chaotic as he left it. Nonetheless, he discovered his room again to be worse than before; like a dust devil had swept through it.

It was kind of comforting, really, being back.

***

The night was harrowing and painful. Both in the figurative and literal way; he awoke due to his aching back, which was really confusing since he was finally sleeping on a  _bed_  and not on Ray's floor. 

Gerard's body functioned questioningly like that. Maybe it'd take him a few nights to get adjusted to the comfortableness of his bed again.

The house moaned and groaned along with the foul weather outside; it was raining heavily. The flashes of lightning illuminated the room disturbingly now and then, causing Gerard to jerk up, startled. 

Particularly due to that, he'd determined that going downstairs was a good idea. Without any specific reason in his mind, he just wanted to leave his room, which he'd so terribly missed, but whatever. The storm had changed his mind. 

He staggered down the stairs sleepily, occasionally stopping to yawn, and once finally in the kitchen, he started looking around for something to nibble. He would call it a midnight snack, but it was only ten. That also meant that he'd gotten one hour of sleep, which definitely wasn't sufficient to keep him on his feet the next day.

The only thing to be heard was his chewing, so he was reasonably petrified when he heard keys jangling, then a quiet rustle coming from the entryway, supposedly the door's crackling when it opened. 

Gerard stared at the door-less door-frame of the kitchen, wide-eyed and unblinking, only to be later met with the eyes of a familiar man. Gerard sighed exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes, swinging his head away.

His father stepped into the kitchen tentatively, his hair plastered down from the rain, and overall, he was all soaking wet. From head to toes. Gerard could hear his heavy and impaired breathing; he sounded and looked old, nothing like the last time Gerard saw him, properly saw him: six years ago. His face was wrinkled, his hair was turning white, his face unshaven, and his eyes tired. 

None of these features bluntly indicated the malevolence of a man, but neither did they show any hint of affability. They were just his facial features. Sooner or later, when the man would open his mouth to spit vulgar words at Gerard, everything would turn easily visible. And so, Gerard waited.

"I'm glad you're...back," the man said, in spite of Gerard's expectations. Gerard did not flinch; he breathed in and let out breaths of anger, and eventually, his father got that he wasn't wanted. Unfortunately, he was too late. Gerard's shoulder brushed against the man's as he marched out of the kitchen, sullenly. 

His father sighed and settled down on a chair. He pushed away his wet hair from his face. To no avail, he began stroking his forehead to lessen the tension burning up inside him, feeling blamed and ashamed. He spent quite a while staring at the floor, musing and reflecting back on years and memories. 

Gerard, on the other hand, hadn't gone back to his room like his father thought. No. Gerard lingered for a while and finally came to a distinct conclusion. 

He folded his arms and entered the kitchen again sulkily, perching himself on the end of a seat opposite from his father. Surprised, the man sat up and looked perplexedly at his son, wondering if he'd done something right. 

But perhaps he had acted prematurely, because that caused Gerard to groan and roll his eyes again. The perplexed expression on the man's face downgraded to a doleful one. Somehow, Gerard thought, it made him look younger. 

Unbending his spine, Gerard sighed once more and drawled, trying to be patient, "What were you doing out at ten at night?" 

Although it didn't really improve things highly, he made the effort to throw his father a quick glance. An I'm-trying-my-best-here glance that his father should latch onto to strengthen the situation.

"This is the time I get off from work," his father announced, nodding slowly to preoccupy himself and draw away from the stifling anxiety. Gerard copied, his frown disappearing. He wasn't as sulky as before then, he was only struggling to speak. And who could blame him? Honestly, how was he supposed to converse with a man he hadn't seen in six years? A man that had descended on Gerard's list from a 'parent' to an 'acquaintance' in no time? His life was a fucking tragedy.

"Good...Alright," Gerard said, simply giving up like that, and abandoned his seat to leave the room. 

"Wait—" he heard his father say. Eyeing him, Gerard could easily distinguish the reluctance and anguish in his trembling pupils, and looking at him from that close, good God, the man had aged extremely and  _prematurely_ , one might add. He had to be, what, forty-seven? He looked ten years older. But then again, Gerard looked six years older. "As inappropriate as it is now...and, well, belated...I need to apologize. Regardless of your acceptance or not, it's the only thing right for me to do," he announced, leaving his seat as well.

"Fine," Gerard cut him off before he had the time to begin and glanced over his shoulder, "apology accepted. Night."

And like that, Gerard hurried back to his room. Well, at least the storm had ceased. But something else would be troubling him for the rest of the night.

His mind and heart were racing, as if they were disputing and challenging each other in a running contest, and by the time he had barely regained some composure, the weather had commenced grunting again, inasmuch as the poor birds outside had nestled up on the outside ledge of his window. Gerard heard their muffled chirping; like a sad lullaby, it was soothing but too doleful to send him to dreamland. 

Heartsick, he rolled out of bed and dawdled blindly toward the window. He rested his chin on his folded arms upon the windowsill, scrutinizing the two feeble, teetering birds, one bigger than the other. The mother and its baby, most likely, that's what they'd learn in biology at least; the mother bird rarely leaves her squabs in still early stages of their life. 

He pressed his extended palm on the hazy, cold pane of the window and observed the birds as they tilted their necks mechanically. 

"I'd let you in, but..." he muttered, "you wouldn't like it here. Go on, be free. And don't you ever think human life is better than yours. I'll tell you, human life's shit. Humans have to go to college and work. Work until and for their death."

He stayed there for a while, observing and rambling on to the two bird that couldn't even hear or understand him, but whatever. He needed to talk to someone and Frank wasn't there, alright? 

He so badly needed to see Frank. Taste his lips and feel his skin, brush his hair with his fingers, and maybe, maybe, kiss him all over. Okay, not maybe. Certainly. He eagerly wouldn't let him go; he'd hold him close to his arms for a whole day, kissing every part of him. 

It was those night thoughts that drove him insane, despondent, holding the end of the rope. They had so spontaneously popped up in his mind; he never thought like this before. 

He pulled out his scuffed phone from his school bag and launched at Frank's ID.

" _Gerard! You're awake! I was gonna call you, but I thought you might be busy,_ " Frank's voice, as wide-awake and cheerful as it gets, echoed in Gerard's head and transmitted him cheer as well, " _You're awake!_ " Frank repeated himself and giggled heartily.

"Completely. What are you guys up to?" Gerard asked, his smiling being practically heard through the phone.

" _Ray's showing me some badass riffs on his guitar. The dude's a genius. How are you, how did the whole...thing go?_ " Frank asked, his tone dropping to seriousness, as Ray interjected from afar, apologizing for being a cockblocker or whatever, and Mikey stating that he was, in fact, not sorry at all. Gerard rolled his eyes. 

"Tell you tomorrow. I was just greedy to hear your voice or whatever," he said earnestly, without a single pinprick of hesitation nor regret. "Oh, and inform my jerk of a brother that I'm staying here from now on. He can go fuck himself, or his friends, or  _whoever_."

 _"Okay, okay, but later. Hang on a sec—"_  Frank said and a crackling noise followed.  _"What do you mean by you were 'greedy' to hear my voice? What happened?"_

"I just missed you. Is that a happening?" Gerard huffed out a laugh. 

 _"Gerard, we spent three, if not more, weeks together without parting once. You are not..."_ Frank said dubiously and Gerard imagined him raising an eyebrow, _"you're not...jealous, or mad, or anything, are you?"_

"What?! For God—No, Frank. I missed you, that's all. All this drama going on at home drives me crazy and you're sorta reviving, if that makes any sense. I know, I know, I'm needy, but can you come over here tomorrow? I can't manage another day like this, I'm going nuts. Look—I even talked to birds, earlier! And I awoke because of a freaking storm! See, I'm already losing my little sanity, please say yes." Gerard sank to his knees as he spoke and whispered beseechingly to the phone, which made Frank burst into a fit of blithe laughter.

" _Alright, alright,_ " he giggled and almost intended to say something—something that, not only would straight off demolish the atmosphere and the bright spirits, but it would also persuade him to overthink, because, okay, 'I miss you's and flirty jokes were fine and all, but there was a borderline. And that line cut off such things as 'I love you's. It wasn't the sappiness that made him recoil or anything, it was just his instinct exhorting him to act warily.

They stayed up late talking, and even when Frank's eyes were drifting shut, he would promise that he was still wide-awake.


	16. Chapter 16

As Gerard strolled into the classroom, drowsy from staying up late last night, the few and tired eyes that distinctly said 'woken up at five AM, and don't have time for your shit', tacked on him instantaneously. They followed him up to his seat, where he collapsed, already tuckered out with all the walking he'd done. 

He scrunched his eyes shut when an unfamiliar voice greeted the class. Okay, he determined; no more night calls with Frank. Specifically nights before school. 

But then again, that wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for Ray. Perhaps Gerard was exaggerating—and maybe just a tiny bit jealous—but still.  _Ray._

In the meantime of contriving potential ways to pay back Ray, Gerard chose to start waking up. He opened his eyes, struggling to adjust to the light, and unwillingly made eye contact with an unfamiliar face. The unfamiliar face was sitting on the teacher's desk. However, he looked younger than any teacher's in the school, currently. 

Great. Another substitute. And a young one as well? Good God, time to go back to sleep.

However, the arrival of Frank roused Gerard. Frank seemed to be apologizing to the substitute for being one minute late, and then, he took a seat next to Gerard, smirking slyly, something Gerard didn't know he needed at eight AM. And perhaps Gerard was too absorbed in gawking-studying Frank to notice that the substitute was staring his way intensely. 

"Alright," the strange guy said in a husky, sensual—if Gerard dared to put it that way—voice, "good morning everyone."

'New guy?' Frank mouthed and nodded subtly at the guy in front of them. Gerard shrugged, curving his upper lip. 

He could smell his perfume, which sort of gave away his novice, since teachers in that school didn't even make the effort to shower. And moreover, they definitely didn't ever take the time to spray perfume on themselves. Not to mention that the guy looked like he was a freaking luminary on the red carpet, which was absurd as hell. 

Did he know where he was? Gerard actually began getting worried that the guy was high on something.

"Well. My name's Mr. Anderson, but you can call me Aaron. Mister makes me sound old, doesn't it?" the guy said, smirking and tilting his head toward Gerard, full-on focusing on him. "And I'm not old," he added, licking his lips. 

Gerard raised an eyebrow involuntarily. Holy shit, the dude either had a heck of an unbelievable nerve, or he was a pedophile. 

"Pedophile," Frank asserted in a hushed tone next to Gerard, staring in astonishment as 'Aaron' proceeded to smile smugly at Gerard. "And he's angling for you. Ooh, spunky."

"Why are you here?" a voice asked from the back of the class with disdain. 

"Right. Well, I'm assuming you're all aware of Mrs. Devon's terrible,  _terrible_ , accident," the guy said in an offhand way, wiggling his eyebrows, "therefore, we're going to have some fun this semester."

Frank huffed disbelievingly, slightly amused. You only get that kind of content once in your life; the guy was fucking nuts, clearly. He should wait a day until that whole confidence would be brutally ripped out of him. 

"I'm sure you're all devastated about Mrs. Devon, but anyway, enough about that. Since I'm kinda new here, I need some help to, y'know, catch up," he laughed quietly and bit his lip, still—oh God—ogling at Gerard. "You," he pointed at him, altering his smirk into another smug smile, "what's your name?"

"Ooh, spunky," Frank grinned and raised an eyebrow defiantly. He banged his hands onto the desk, leaning forward, which the guy completely ignored.

Gerard, trying to be liberated from the frozen state he was in, shot Frank a quick glance. "Uh...me?" he uttered when Frank shrugged his shoulders in blank.

"Yeah, you," the guy asserted and ran a hand through his hair. Gorgeously styled 50's quiff.  Godlike. "Got a name?"

"Gerard?" he responded, dubiously. 

Since the dude was still staring at him for enlightenment, Gerard opened his destroyed last year's binder and skimmed over the first and only page. Deep down, he was aware that it would be a miracle if he'd manage to find something in there, but carried on with a glimpse of hope. As he'd predicted, the one and only page was filled with drawings of zombies, Ray fighting zombies, and a zombie king with Mikey's glasses. Well, he was screwed. 

"Well?" the guy prompted, resting one hand on his hip. He giggled, amused at Gerard's failed description.  "Oh, don't worry, it's nothing. I'll ask somebody else. And since you need some help with that as well, I'll copy some notes. That okay?"

Gerard attempted to laugh, but it all turned out to sound like a nervous, drawn-out huff. He turned to look at Frank, his expression plainly saying 'the guy's insane,' urgently asking for salvation. 

And for a few minutes, Gerard and Frank stayed there staring into each other's eyes in both surprise and bewilderment the guy had caused. The rest of the class was as confused; the 'Aaron' guy had deliberately caused a big fuss. 

Maybe Frank was, apart from confused, actually a bit annoyed as well. 

The guy had left for the copy room and returned in no time, holding a bunch of papers. He placed most of them in front of Gerard's eyes and smiled in a superb manner, his whole upper row of perfect teeth showing. After taking a few steps back, still smiling brilliantly, he stopped to note:

"Oh, and in case you need any help, let me know." 

With that and with a wink, he let the rest of the class know that they should hand out the worksheets he'd given, and that he'd be downstairs in the cafeteria.  _The freaking cafeteria._  The guy had such a nerve. Frank starting gambling in his head on his remaining time; he was indubitably going to get fired in less than two days.

"Did he just fucking wink at you?" he pointed out in an incredulous tone.

"That all you care about? The guy's fucking nuts, he just gave me the last year's material! All of it. Just like that. I can't believe my fucking luck, man! Can you?" Gerard laughed out and held his hands up.  _Did you notice that too? Thank God, I thought I was going crazy,_  he meant to say but didn't. Frank did not look as amused. He squinted his eyes at the teacher's desk with skepticism. "What's the matter?" Gerard asked. 

Frank rubbed his chin, his nose crinkled. "Maybe he's trying to lure you."

"You think?" Gerard smirked and dragged his chair closer to Frank's, finally catching on why Frank was being so 'skeptical'. "Go on."

"Maybe he's trying to kill you. In that case, we should get the hell out of here. How much do they inspect a teacher to give him the job? Did you see anything sharp on him?"

"Sharp, you said?" Gerard rolled his lips. 

Frank scoffed, the dubious expression on his face disappearing in the spark of a minute. "I'm trying to figure this out and there is you...making jokes. Anyway, whatever, if he kills you, I promise to take vengeance after your death."

"How kind of you, Frank," Gerard chuckled and dragged his chair even closer to Frank's. The teacher strutted into the room nonchalantly again, whilst Gerard was tactfully trying to fling his arm around Frank's neck. The guy, though, barely took notice, and the fact that they were sitting in the corner of the class was pretty convenient, since nobody could turn to stare and make an interrupting remark.

Frank rose an eyebrow, looking sideways at Gerard's roguish eyes. "You should stop that. I'm going to fail the class because of you," he said, a tiny smile starting to prevail over on his lips, despite himself.

"You deserve it," Gerard stated, huffing a laugh. Frank rolled his eyes and dropped his gaze to the floor. 

"Are you referring to something I did, specifically?"

"Yes," Gerard admitted bluntly and folded his arms, "yesterday, to be _very_  specific."

"Oh," Frank half-whispered, staring at the floor, "I get it now. And how do I make up for that?"

Gerard mused. "I might be a bad influence, telling you this now, but I wanna get the hell out of here. I didn't want to come to school anyway. Let's go back to mine?"

***

"I missed your room," Frank sighed, looking around with a smile of pure contentment. The harsh light of the sun was diffused, filtering in through the orange curtains. Frank liked Gerard's room; it radiated that sort of blithe, relaxed atmosphere his room never did. Frank's room was always freezing and miserable. He hadn't seen it in so long and he was gratified not to have seen it in so long.

"Yeah, me too," Gerard said and threw himself onto his bed, stretching his arms before patting the space next to him. Frank joined and rested his head on Gerard's chest, letting him tangle his fingers through his hair. Totally ignoring everything; the fact that they were missing school, whatever was going on between them, and the fact that someone could turn up unexpectedly at any time...

Gerard let his thoughts flow freely, like a river, in his mind, regardless of their acuity or their senselessness. His mind was rather impetuous that day, due to the extreme amount of coffee he'd consumed the past four hours he'd been up. Necessary, of course, otherwise he wouldn't be awake with the insufficient sleep he'd gotten the night before. But being impetuous, his mind leaped from one absurd subject to the other. He didn't try to combat that, it would be futile anyway.

Frank's breathing was quiet and soothing. It conveyed Gerard to another world of contemplation.

"Have you ever had sex?" Gerard inquired all of a sudden, then, frowned to himself at what he'd just blurted out. 

Frank huffed out a laugh and responded, "Yeah."

Gerard's eyes went wide at the abruptness of the situation's progress. He felt his brain muddled. "What the fuck? You said that so bluntly, so casually. I was not expecting that, why did you utter it out so casually?!"

"Oh...sorry," Frank squinted as he saw Gerard sitting up. He waited for a moment, staring at him intensely. Eventually, he smirked and drawled out, "Yeaaah. Was that better?"

"Oh, quit it," Gerard rolled his eyes at the sarcasm and went on, "how come you never told me?"

"Let's see. I'm seventeen, that's seventeen years, minus the first two I can't remember. So, that's fifteen years, and we've known each other for, what, half a year. Therefore, I think it makes sense that you don't know anything about me yet, though fifteen years—"

"Okay, okay, fine," Gerard cut Frank off and sighed. "I mean, it's surprising that you never talked about that. Just that." He bit his lip and his eyes darted away from Frank. Musing, questions started flooding in his brain. "Was it a girl?" he presumed, returning his gaze to Frank.

"Nah," Frank shook his head and tucked his knees up to his chest. "We were fifteen and I had just gotten enrolled in that school. His name was Luke and he was Scottish," he smiled at a thought popping up in his head and bit his lip, not eyeing Gerard, who was getting kind of grouchy. 

"Luke from Scotland, huh?" he raised an eyebrow and laid back on his bed. "Tell me more."

Frank threw him a cautious glance before beginning. "Y'know, it started off as just friends. Then, best friends, and as the cliche goes...we fucked, eventually."

"Man, your bluntness..." Gerard commented, his eyes growing big. "You don't just fuck your best friend. Except if...I'm missing something here."

"Well, okay," Frank acknowledged rightly, "kind of. We got together after three months of friendship. It was the first school I stayed in for half a year, anyway, and he was kind of following me around already, so..."

"So you figured: great, let's go fuck?" Gerard remarked rudely. His tone was progressively becoming more and more evidently ironic, betraying him. Frank noticed, a bit too late.

"You sure you wanna hear about this? You don't look really amused," he pointed out and got on top of Gerard, teasing him. Trying to get him to admit that he was grouchy. Gerard didn't give in, because, pfft, he wasn't jealous. More like, worried, considering that he knew Frank for about half a year, too. He was worried that Frank would leave him like—and if—he'd left the other guy. 

Hesitant as to if he wanted to know how that had ended up, he sighed exaggeratedly.

However, he finally made peace with the hesitant part of him and asked—still looking kind of grumpy, "What happened?"

Frank, still on top of him, smiled broadly in amusement. "He put the weed down and realized he liked girls."

Gerard blinked stupidly. His grumpy expression was wiped away; his eyebrows rose when the realization hit him. "Oh."

"Yeah. Luke smoked a lot of weed," Frank shrugged his shoulders carelessly, "whatever. I left the week after, anyway, it was never gonna work out."

"I'm sorry," Gerard said and sat up again, wrapping his arms around Frank's waist. "I guess he wasn't the blue sunset, huh?"

Frank's eyebrows met. "Wow, you actually listen to me when I talk," he said as his mouth twitched into a smirk. Gerard rather felt offended, okay, he always listened to Frank when he talked. "Yeah, not a blue sunset," Frank agreed. 

As much as Gerard wanted to learn more on the matter, he kept himself from throwing a bunch of interrogative questions. He, being the huge virgin he was, felt moreover embarrassed. Not because Frank was a year younger and had already had sex or anything, but mainly because Gerard was a virgin; altogether. He just felt like he was late. As though everyone else on this planet had had sex. As though he was the only massive virgin. 

Thankfully, the thought that Bob Bryar also hadn't had sex pacified him. It was comforting for a while, until he remembered that Bob didn't want to have sex, and that's probably why he hadn't. 

Gerard wasn't eager to, or anything. He was curious, and if it ever came up or were to happen; he wasn't going to say no. But of course, only if that person to ask him were to be specifically and only Frank. And that to Gerard seemed so far off, he omitted thinking about it then. There was no need to.

"What about you, then?" Frank inquired and brought his face closer to Gerard's, who avoided meeting his eyes. 

"I, uh...Me, relationships, I—" Gerard's mind seemed to have gone blank for a moment, unable to collect his thoughts and forge them into words. He closed his eyes. First off, he had to admit it to himself before saying it aloud. "I haven't. I've only been together with this one guy and it lasted for precisely two days. Apart from that, I've only been together with a girl and we broke it off, because her mom didn't like me. We were in fifth grade."

Frank giggled, he just giggled. Gerard opened his eyes to see for himself, maybe understand what was going on. Frank was then chuckling. Either the state Gerard was in was as pathetic as he'd thought, or Frank was laughing about something else. Gerard really hoped Frank wasn't making fun of him. 

"I'm tragic," Frank managed to say in between his chuckling and laid on his back. "Hey, at least you didn't fuck the first guy you befriended. Dude, I was so eager. I was pathetic."

Gerard joined in next to him, shaking his head. Frank wasn't at all pathetic, from his perspective. Frank was brave. A person who's willing to undertake new and daring enterprises; latch onto the chance he gets to do what he wants, whereas Gerard couldn't even put up with his own catastrophes. Because, well, what he totally failed to mention to Frank was that his first boyfriend had abandoned him after two days of dating, when he suddenly realized he preferred girls.

Now, that's pathetic. Gerard thought he'd turned the guy straight.

And back then, he'd just nodded and half-smiled in response. As though it was okay; as though it was perfectly fine to hurt Gerard like that.

"You know what's funny?" Gerard asked when Frank had gotten the maniacal chuckles out of his system. 

"Aaron Anderson," Frank replied and began laughing again uncontrollably. Gerard couldn't help but break out into fits of laughter, then, he'd altogether forgotten about that morning. Which wasn't exactly a bad thing; he wished he'd never need to see that Anderson-guy again. He was, quite frankly, creeping him out. 

"Pfft, that doesn't even stand. I asked  _what'_ s funny, not  _who_. But what the hell's wrong with that guy, anyway?"

"I think he likes you," Frank smiled wickedly and wiggled his eyebrows at Gerard, causing him to huff incredulously. All this merely resembled middle school. "I think you got yourself a boyfriend there, Gerard."

It could also be that Frank deliberately made it sound like middle school.

Gerard rolled his eyes and flung himself on top of Frank this time, the tease he was. Frank couldn't stop chuckling. "I beg to differ," Gerard said resolutely. 

"Make your case," Frank said and slowly quit his chuckling. He stretched his arms and pulled Gerard closer, wrapping his arms around his waist possessively.  

Gerard drew his face closer to Frank's, mouth inches away from his. "I'm not into guys with 50's quiffs. I'm more into fringes."

"Fair enough." Frank pulled him even closer and the gap between their needy mouths closed. 

It was another fervent kiss; rough and wet, but somehow sweet. Though Gerard couldn't completely simmer down completely, knowing that anyone could emerge through the door at any point. Mikey, his mother, Bob, Ray, or even his father, and God, that would be so weird. He drew back for a second to gasp and pressed his lips harder against Frank's.

That wasn't the kiss that indicated a prolonged making-out session approaching, and Gerard knew it. He was on cloud nine already, just by kissing Frank, cupping his face and feeling him smile into the kiss. It stirred a warm feeling in his chest.

Gerard had surpassed the 'butterflies in my stomach' stage. He was pretty sure butterflies were dying in his stomach then, imploding, which would most definitely cause some contamination, if it wasn't figurative.

Frank cupped Gerard's right cheek and stroke it tenderly, his other hand getting lost in Gerard's hair, pulling it lightly. Frank did that quite often, and every damn time, it had Gerard moaning in his mouth, because, okay:  _hot_. 

Harking back to last night's late call, Frank couldn't help himself but dwell on what he'd almost done. On what he'd come dangerously close to doing and then, he was close to doing  _again_. No one could really full-on blame him; Gerard held him sway every time. And this time was no exception. Well, the only difference this time was that he was going to do it, no matter what.

He cupped Gerard's face and drew back for a moment.

"Is it okay if I say that I really like you?" he asked, the tip of his nose touching Gerard's. Something in the back of Frank's head hummed, plaguing him about how he'd totally gone astray right then, begging him to take it back. Frank did not care in the slightest. 

"More than okay," Gerard said, trying to hide the fact that his heart was fluttering and pounding on his chest so hard, it could as well bolt out. He placed his lips on Frank's again.


	17. Chapter 17

Gerard let out a chortle and blocked his mouth with his palm, dropping his gaze to the floor as Frank exited the classroom with the pink detention slip in his hand. He stared at Gerard tight-lipped and fixedly, trying to resist the urge to launch at him and kiss him passionately in front of the teacher's eyes in revenge. He should embarrass him back; it was all his fault, after all.

Gerard couldn't hold it in anymore; he burst into laughter.

"This is unfair," Frank grumbled and groaned, wanting to tear the pink piece of paper to shreds. Well, he would, but not in front of a teacher. More so, not in front of the teacher he'd just had in detention. That would grant him another lovely pink detention slip. "This is all your fault!" he pointed at Gerard, pouting.

"My fault?" Gerard scoffed incredulously and waved his hand sardonically. "Oh, please. You were the one cackling like mad in class."

"Well, that wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for your Mister Charming! I couldn't help it!" Frank replied defensively and groaned again. Gerard slid his arm through his and began ambling out of the building. Frank felt the need to point out, "We're the last to leave school today. Because of your prince, Mr. Anderson, damn it."

Gerard shrugged. "Eh. The dude's put up with you the past three weeks. He was going to put you in detention eventually, you should've seen it coming. Hell, I saw it coming and I told you, didn't I?"

"I haven't been cackling like that every single week. It was only because him giving you his phone number was so fucking hilarious. And, anyway, do you know how he reasoned it? Wanna see what I had to show the teacher in detention? Your prince literally wrote 'hysterical laughter', that's the incident. Woe is me; the guy in detention was scrutinizing me all the damn time. I'm not a lunatic!" Frank supported and whipped out the detention slip to show Gerard.

"Hysterical laughter, huh? Guess I was right, then. You did sound like a dying fox," Gerard shrugged nonchalantly, hearing Frank groan again. Frank went on supporting that it was all Gerard's fault, and all Gerard did was giggle back, amused. 

The Anderson-guy had given Gerard his pop-quiz back, all graded and with a smiley in red pen in the end, along with a sticky-note attached, where the guy's number was written on. Risqué but also hilarious. Frank had burst out laughing maniacally and was eventually asked to leave the room. 

And yet he still claimed that he wasn't at all to blame. 

"It looks like he's desperately trying to get fired. Test out the school supervisor or something. Like, what is he going to do next?" Frank dropped his surly gaze to the floor, folding his arms. Gerard, beaming, nudged him in the ribs. He was ready to throw him a smart remark, all planned-out in his head, when he suddenly noticed their friends outside. 

On a bench, Bob was sitting cross-legged, and Ray had folded his arms, head bowed so that his hair was covering his face.

The blond boy raised his arm and waved at Frank and Gerard. "Do you have a lighter?!" he shouted irrelevantly, cupping his hands around his mouth. Frank and Gerard frowned at each other. 

"Where's Mikey?" Gerard asked instead, scouting around but not detecting his brother. Mikey had probably ditched them again; he did that a lot recently, without bothering to inform Gerard. It pissed him off, but he wasn't going to say anything. He and Frank walk toward Ray and Bob. 

"And whatcha need a lighter for?" Frank said.

"Oh, never mind, I'm sure Ray learned his lesson now. Anyway, how was detention?" Bob changed the subject questionably. In fact, it looked rather deliberate, as if he was trying to hide Ray's scowl with a sheet. Needless to say, it didn't work at all. Gerard raised an eyebrow. 

"Something's telling me something's wrong." He narrowed his eyes at Bob and then at Ray. "And by something, I mean Ray's face that eerily resembles Grumpy's from Snow White."

"I can be moody sometimes too, y'know," Ray claimed and his nose crinkled as he looked away. 

"Okay?" Gerard's eyebrows furrowed and, finally, he decided to wave it off. "Are we gonna go get that mysterious wight known as my brother or what?"

"No need to, he's in good hands. He's with Pete and Alice," Ray said and sighed, the sullen expression on his face fading away. 

Gerard mused, looking up. "Oh. Good hands...Wait, Alice, the goth girl?"

"The goth girl," Ray repeated almost immediately and scoffed. Another sigh followed. The situation was starting to have an intimidating effect on Gerard, in all honesty, it seemed to him that Ray badly wanted to say something, something painfully lodged in his throat.

Gerard had this stark feeling—a feeling he seldom had around his friends; he felt extrinsic. Specifically Mikey and Ray hadn't been telling him shit lately. He wondered if he'd done something wrong. The ambiance of their company was rather strange these past three weeks, something utterly new. Bad new.

He had obviously missed something.

When wafting back to these past three weeks, Gerard came to the realization that everything luckily had passed so uneventfully. His parents rarely bothered him when he was with Frank; heck, Gerard's father barely noticed Frank in the house. Something still felt off, however. Gerard, nonplussed and unconvinced that things would continue being as good, was determined to ask his parents to kindly leave. Just for the fun of it; see how they'd react if he'd asked them to actually retreat. 

And if they left, hell, it would be a burden less on Gerard's shoulders. The house always felt stifling when his dad was ambling around like a ghost.

Suddenly, Bob slid his arm through Ray's and said resolutely, looking at Ray threateningly, "Y'know, change of plans; you guys go ahead. I'm gonna have a talk here with Ray, maybe go find Mikey. We'll either be back in no time or in...a very long time. See you around."

Ray's defiant grumbles and groans, while he was being dragged forcefully and despite himself, didn't stop Bob, not even for a moment. He went on dragging him onward by the elbow to the opposite direction from Gerard and Frank. It was when they were out of sight that Gerard realized how frozen Frank looked. 

His facial characteristics didn't indicate anger; he didn't look mad or anything. Frank looked...frozen. Petrified, rather. 

He abruptly yanked Gerard from his sleeve and ran behind the school building, cautiously peering behind the wall. His breathing was unimpaired as he fixedly looked bug-eyed at something that had caught his attention.

Gerard frowned at his rapidness. "What's wrong?"

"Those were—there! Fucking hell, Fred and Dan; my cousins," Frank clarified quietly, his eyebrows meeting in concern. "Do you think they saw us?"

Gerard peeped out for himself to see, ignoring Frank's inquiry. "Why are they here? They don't go to our school," he stated and rose an eyebrow. 

"They go to Cheverus High and it's not that far. That's a bad sign. Why else would they be here? Wait—they're walking away," Frank sighed, a wave of relief swept over him, redeeming his serenity. They seemed to be gone when Frank was determined that he and Gerard could finally leave, undetected.

Gerard couldn't, for the life of him, shake those pestering thoughts in his head away. His intuition had abandoned him feeling like something bad was going to happen. 

***

"We're considering leaving for a while," Ms. Way declared abruptly, emerging like a haunting wraith all of a sudden, "travel, maybe, let things cool off. I know that you're still being distant, Gerard. Maybe us leaving will do you some good."

Marvelous. 

Gerard really hadn't asked for this. All he wanted to do in the kitchen was to get something for Frank and him to eat; he hadn't aimed for any mother-son meet up, chit-chat. Worse, when he turned around, his mother seemed to be expecting a response. 

He gave her an evasive shrug, solely word-less, and seeing how that didn't gratify her, he nodded wildly, uttering out a series of 'yes, okay, very well' before hastily walking out of the room. Befuddled, his mother froze there with a risen brow, unsure of how to interpret her son's reply.

That was all Gerard remembered from that day. One day she'd declared their departure, very hazily and inappropriately, because okay, his mother failed to mention to Gerard when they'd be leaving. So, reasonably, Gerard was confounded when one morning he woke up and both his parents were gone. Mikey and Ray were informed seemingly; Gerard was startled to learn that he wasn't. 

His mother called in quite frequently. Apparently, Gerard's aunt was going to pay a fill-in visit soon, which Gerard was frankly not thrilled for.

What he also wasn't thrilled for was June, and June was just around the corner. May passed like a bypassing car; it flickered its lights at them and took the turn left, heading off for the horizon and vanishing from their sight. May was in the past, a recollection in Gerard's mind that sometimes he flashed back to.

Uneventful was a counterfactual term to use in the occasion of May, though. May was lovely. Quite honestly, that month couldn't have gone better for Gerard. He spent most of it, if not all of it, with Frank. 

Things vary a bit when referring to Ray and Mikey. Their senseless fights tensed up gradually, and Bob had to play the referee every damn time, it got wearisome after a while. In a brief minute, Gerard's mind had to fathom that Mikey had gotten together with the 'goth girl', and as if that wasn't enough, he'd also hurt that girl, apparently, by breaking up with her, which totally didn't sound like Mikey. 

Gerard figured he didn't want to learn more; he tiptoed out of the living room to the kitchen.

And that Monday evening was the very last day of May. Gerard, while waiting for Bob and Frank to come back from the supermarket, was condemned to listen to Pete indefinitely drunk-talk. 

"And you know, I love Ray, but he's kinda pushing Mikey by this point. And Alice's really hurt and that makes me sad. I like Alice. She's veeeery different and...kinda pretty. I mean, she's kinda rude to me, always tells me to fuck off and get off her lawn when I show up at her house but—" Pete went on uncontrollably, gesticulating like a white girl and ignoring the fact that it was Gerard he was talking to. 

In spite of that, so did Gerard, who only nodded and efficiently filled in the short silences with 'uh-huh's. Maybe when Pete Wentz sobered up, he would return to his asshole self. Or maybe not. 

Bob and Frank finally bounded into the room, discussing their own things and placing the stuff they'd brought around. Inattentive-Gerard doubted it was a good idea to leave Ray and Mikey alone in the next room, fighting like cats, but he didn't particularly enjoy being left alone with Pete, so he didn't mention it.

"Great. So, you guys finally made up," Bob half-whispered in Gerard's ear, although whispering would be completely useless. Drunken Pete wasn't listening anyway, he was too busy singing various Disney songs.

Gerard attempted to smile, but a sneer took over his face. Frank—finally someone comprehending Gerard's hardship—pecked him on the cheek on the sly and came up with a quick excuse to get him to escort him upstairs. Instantly beaming up, Gerard mouthed a 'thank you' to Frank, who just wiggled his eyebrows in response. 

"Pete drove me crazy, ugh, I think my head's gonna blow. Right. Let's get back to work now that you're actually back. I've found some more catalogs, there," Gerard announced once they were upstairs and pointed to a pile of books on his bed. Frank closed the door behind them and looked suddenly crestfallen at Gerard.

"What? Oh, Gerard, we're not going to do that again, are we? C'mon, not now, let's just...procrastinate it away. It's all we've been doing," he said and launched himself into Gerard's embrace, groaning exaggeratedly. He utterly looked like he'd lost all hope and Gerard didn't like that. There was no time to lose; Gerard was overly positive they could find Frank's mother's name in one of those catalogs.

Frank began kissing Gerard's neck, moving down towards his chest to persuade him, but in vain. Gerard was determined. He held Frank's face in his hands and hauled him up slowly. 

"Hey, in the end, it will be worth it," he vindicated, insisting, and smiling hopefully at Frank. 

"What about that test we ought to study for, huh? It's tomorrow."

"Oh, come  _on_ ," Gerard snorted dully, "why are we even writing this? It won't matter, in a month we're gonna be out of high school. Like, forever."

"Exactly why we need to study!" 

"You  _don't_ wanna study," Gerard huffed out, smirking knowingly.

Frank blinked at him and eventually admitted: "Okay, yes, I don't."

Consequently, he was soon talked into putting down his seductive fantasies, to look into boring-ass catalogs instead, downhearted. After a while, his lost hope caused him to see all the listed names as the same. This is useless, he kept thinking persistently. So far, he hadn't found the name 'Iero' anywhere.

Bob busted in after two hours or so, announcing Pete's departure, as well as his own, Pete leaning on him drowsily. Similarly, Ray and Mikey turned up after a while too, all happy and dressed up ready to go out on that Monday night.

"Okay, firstly, who gives a fuck if we've got school tomorrow. Fuck those guys, okay, it's your last year. And secondly, lost a bet, so now Ray's gotta get me drunk," Mikey had said to Gerard and Frank just before they left. 

It was just Gerard and Frank in the house after that. Listening to music and skimming carefully the pages, or rather Gerard was doing it, because Frank...well, he was having some trouble. Major trouble concentrating. Especially when 'Bed Of Roses' played quietly on the radio, and Gerard looked way too absorbed in his task. Way too attractive, as Frank seemed to believe right then. 

It was when the drums pitched in strongly and the harmonious, rousing chorus of the song came on, so that Frank couldn't hold himself back anymore. Throwing himself onto Gerard, he sang along loudly, pushing the catalog in front of Gerard aside with his elbow. 

"Frank! Hey—I was reading that! No, give it back, you—" Gerard said, giggling, shoving Frank away, and striving to catch the catalog that was almost going to fall off the bed. 

"Come on, Gerard, just—Later!" Frank moaned and hugged Gerard tightly. He carried on singing along and shaking his head wildly. 

Gerard gave in to Frank's hug eventually, laying back on his bed and observing his triumphant expression. "Jesus Christ, why did I even think that listening to music was going to help you concentrate?"

"I can't help it when you're looking all focused, and absorbed, and—dammit, you're killing me." Frank let his fingers graze Gerard's mouth and brush his cheek, and, okay, Gerard knew he had to break it off; there was work to be done, they still had four catalogs left to check on. Perhaps a brief break would help Frank to see reason again and spring back to refocus. 

"Alright, alright, get off, let's grab something to eat. For the hundredth time. Jeez, you know we could be done now if we had cut down the breaks," he stated and tried to get Frank off of him, struggling as he clung on Gerard like a leech. 

Frank drew back and looked seriously at him. "Wait, what? And what happens if we're all done checking 'em? Don't tell me we need to start anew..."

"Actually, we need to find more catalogs," Gerard thought out loud and pursed his lips. He examined the despair drawn on Frank's face and waved him off with his hand. "But later. Let's go eat something now."  
  
  
  


After eating, they continued their search, as futile as Frank thought it was. The clock was showing eleven sharp, the silence was persisting, and after a while, it began making them feel sleepy. Hell, Ray and Mikey were possibly still out having fun, and Gerard and Frank were half-awake like toddlers. 

Gerard carried on skimming over the pages; he was so tired, that the black letters against the yellow page ceased looking like letters after a while. Same with Frank, but Frank had let his eyes drift shut, muttering surnames quietly, as if he'd possessed some superpower to read the names off the catalog with his eyes closed.

However, Gerard didn't let his weariness overwhelm him. He continued mumbling the names on the pages, waiting until a certain surname would fall upon his tongue.

Under that slumberous spell, he had even grown to barely remember his own name anymore. He carried on muttering:

"Iennacco, Ieraci, Ieremia, I—" 

His eyes suddenly grew wide. Astonishment convulsed him wide-awake. 

"Frank." Gerard froze and then nudged Frank on the side to wake him up. Frank made protesting sounds, claiming that he was fully awake, but Gerard paid no mind to him. He simply brushed his index over the name, incapable of letting out any words.

Trying to slap himself awake, Frank scanned the page slowly. His eyes grew as wide as Gerard's.

"How old is this?" he asked incredulously and turned the cover to check. He paused for a moment, ready to see if someone would emerge and admit they were fucking with him. Someone had to be fucking with him. "Holy fuck. This is from ten years ago! It can still be valid!"

"I fucking know, that's why you see me gaping like a fucking fish!" Gerard exclaimed, his face frozen. "Frank," he huffed disbelievingly, "fucking hell,  _Frankie_ , it says 'Iero', I can't believe it says 'Iero Linda'. Can you—can you believe, it's right there! Can it still be valid?! Oh, please, let it be still valid!"

Frank jolted, feeling a twitch of euphoria spread and tingle through his entire body, his veins, and  _fuck_ ; he couldn't believe it. Nobody was messing with him. If this was a dream, he'd wake up enraged, no doubt.

"Gerard! You're—you're a genius!" he jerked up and toward Gerard, setting free off his chest giggles and laughs of just pure joy. Gerard did so too, his face had gone red in the glimpse of a minute. 

And in that moment of true bliss, Frank started leaving quick, sweet kisses on Gerard's nose and cheeks, as if he was thanking him in a way. What he was mostly doing, though, was apologizing for being such a useless, discouraging ass earlier. He rather owed him. Frank felt like he owed Gerard a hell of a lot. 

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Gerard's, tangling his fingers in his hair and moving his head forward and backward. His disbelief had merely vanished; he was certain and over than glad that this wasn't a dream. 

"Mmphh," Gerard let out a muffled sound in Frank's mouth to remind him, "need to write it down. The address, I mean. We'll look it up later, or tomorrow, or—"

"Tomorrow, tomorrow," Frank affirmed, smiling broadly, his nose touching Gerard's. "Do you think I can play 'Bed of Roses' now? Will you let me?"

"Not a chance," Gerard smirked maliciously and scribbled down on a sticky note only the address from the catalog. He looked up at Frank's eyes that, though glistening with joy, looked tired as hell. Gerard drew near and cupped his cheek, knowing it was only right to suggest drifting off to sleep. 

Frank pulled him closer and hugged him tight, burying his face into his chest and muttered out a, "I fucking love you," that could barely be heard.

However, it reached Gerard's ears. And Gerard's level of elation was beyond the perception of the human mind. 


	18. Chapter 18

Being on cloud nine for the entire weekend, Frank and Gerard had absolutely failed to do something with the information they'd come upon. Ultimately, they spent their weekend 'celebrating'. It was bound to eventually hit them that they hadn't done much and it was about time to. 

A week passed. Gerard's aunt turned up all of a sudden, and she managed to irritate him faster than he had thought. 

She interrogated him every morning when he came down to the kitchen. She scrutinized him intensely and examined everything in the house thoroughly. Like a hound, she nosed around consistently, always glancing at Gerard haughtily. She even scolded him about the dust. The fucking  _dust_. 

Unfair. Mikey didn't have to cope with that. Mikey was always her favorite. Not that he really gave a damn about that anyway. 

And as though that wasn't enough, Gerard soon had to take in that his parents would return before July. Needless to say, he wasn't really gratified with that information. He rather his parents returned after his graduation, but well, his mother wasn't agreeing with that, not in the least. 

Luckily, Gerard eventually talked her into postponing it just one week before his graduation. That way, he'd have the house with his friends for over a month, and hey, that wasn't at all illegal, because he and Ray (who spent his time in the Way household more than his own home those days) had turned eighteen.

It was Sunday morning, and Gerard had woken up before Frank—which was quite rare. He trudged to the kitchen as he did every morning. There, Mikey was laying back in his chair comfortably, twiddling and folding the edges of envelopes and cards in his hands. 

"They don't deliver mail on Sundays," Gerard pointed out and frowned. Yawning, he leaned against the counter and stared at his brother.

"Aunt Josephine forgot to pick it up yesterday," Mikey shrugged, his eyes moving mechanically as he read the card on his hands. Without reading it all through, he tossed it on the table dismissively. "Another one from mom and dad."

Gerard picked it up and squinted to read it. "Where's this one from?" he asked, viewing the front picture of the postcard. 

"Albuquerque," Mikey informed him, pointing at the colorful air-balloons on it. He sat back and sighed, looking out of the window wistfully, which concerned Gerard to the full. Mikey was acting rather strange these past days. 

"You miss them?" Gerard speculated and handed Mikey back the postcard that was signed with wishes and kisses from both their parents. Inner him wanted to lean forward and hug Mikey, comfort him or reassure him in some way, but he knew that would be a quite strange thing to do. 

"Nah. Dad, no. Mom...kind of. I miss coming home and smelling something burning from the kitchen." Mikey cracked his knuckles nervously, nagging on his bottom lip. He looked up at Gerard and shaped his lips into a momentary curl. "Just like I'll miss somebody else when he'll be off to college. I'll miss his grumbles and his over-reactions."

"Yeah?" Gerard smirked, trying to conceal his overpowering rejoice after it had hit him that it wasn't Ray Mikey was referring to. "I'm sure he'll miss your annoying ass, too." 

There was a silent moment; Mikey smirked, feeling lightened, and Gerard had the time to rethink:  _what am I murmuring about?_ Since, like he'd failed to mention, he wasn't planning on leaving in the first place.

"Is he sure about leaving? Has he made up his mind yet?" Mikey asked innocently, altering his smirk into a warm smile, and okay, Gerard swore his brother was reading his mind. That was what he was struggling to figure out himself, damn it.

He rolled his eyes and placed one hand on his hip. "He can never make up his mind."

"Morning..." Ray plodded into the room, hair messy as if he'd just gotten up. He looked around, eyes narrowed, and asked when he noticed an unusual absence, "Where's your guys' aunt?"

Gerard jerked up at that arising question, as if it excited him. As if he'd been waiting all day to answer that question.

"Packing her things and getting ready to finally take off for hell. Finally getting rid of the corrupted witch," Gerard sighed delightfully, impelling Mikey's reprimanding glance. "What? My kind of hell might be her notion of heaven." 

"I bet your notion of heaven is the zombie apocalypse," Ray rolled his eyes and took a seat next to Mikey, who nudged him in an implied manner.

"And knight-Frank saving him from the dirty zombies' hands," Mikey added, as if he couldn't hold himself back. Questioningly, Gerard rose an eyebrow and waited until they'd laughed it off, which, much to his surprise, took long.

All of his friends had been doing that relentlessly these past months; teasing him about Frank.

Surprisingly, Frank had grown less timid. 

Bob, Ray, and Mikey felt like they'd known him for a long time—Frank seemed to have that effect on people generally, seemingly, because that was exactly what had happened with Gerard.

As the teasing went on, Gerard found the time to sneak out of the kitchen.

He headed up to his room to wake up Frank; he'd decided this was the day to look more into what they'd found, because, okay, they'd spent a sufficient time celebrating and it was about time to take some action. 

When he finally managed to wake up Frank, and after they'd finished breakfast and such, Gerard felt like it was time to buzz off, wanting to shun his annoying aunt as well.

"Right," Frank nodded, not fully understanding, "where to?"

"The library, obviously. It has tons of maps!" Gerard replied in a tone that indicated great enthusiasm, like he was filming some sort of shit commercial for the local library and was about to turn around and thumbs-up at a camera.

"Obviously." Frank scoffed and remarked, tone dripping in irony, "Because we're ancient."

Gerard snorted. "That's not the spirit. Come on. Ancient's fun!"

Frank's lips twitched into a smile. He loved how hard Gerard was trying to encourage him. Although there was no need to, Frank was going to assent anyway, but Gerard was being the cutest motherfucker, bucking the situation up. Rolling his eyes, he gave him a quick kiss and left to get ready without another word.

***

Their time was restricted. Heck, they were lucky enough that the library was open on Sundays; if they'd noticed earlier, they would've had more time.

Fumbling in his pockets for the sticky-note the address was scribbled on, Gerard only then seemed to realize that they should've copied the phone number off the catalog somewhere, in case they don't find the address—and, well, generally, having the phone number of Frank's mother's office would be efficient. 

Moreover, they shouldn't have left the catalog they'd found her office in laying on the ground with another hundred of those. They would undoubtedly have a hard time finding it again later.

Frank walked toward the table Gerard was sitting at, barely holding up with all those different maps in his hands. "What do we need all these for? One ought to be enough," he wondered, letting out a sigh as he placed them on the table carefully. 

"Hey, we rarely go to the library. Let's make the most of it." 

Frank sat down next to him, thinking in absolute certainty that they'd find what they're looking for in the first map they'd open.

He was in for a surprise, when he ventured that 'New Jersey isn't that big'. He and Gerard spent more than five minutes trying to locate it, simply because both of them thought it would be way smaller. Then, realizing that the map was limited, Frank finally got why they needed more than one. They opened another one, showing the area they wanted clearer.

Gerard brushed his index over the paper surface, his eyes hastily reading off street names. 

"Found it—!" Frank exclaimed first and then bowed his head when some old hawk-eyed lady in the back shushed him. He uttered a quiet 'oops' and showed Gerard. "Wait...is it near the river then? But that's where we used to live before we moved out."

Likewise, Gerard was confused. He hunched in front of the table, squinting. "Maybe she still lives there?" he assumed, not finding any other logical reason. He looked down, crestfallen at the thought of failure. It simply couldn't be. The universe couldn't be doing this to them. 

They had been on the clouds, overly happy, for a whole week. If all this work had gone to waste, if the catalog had been wrong; how unfair would that be?

Surprisingly, Frank didn't look as frustrated. "Maybe..." he mused, gradually beaming up, "I mean, I don't remember her moving away before us. It's very likely she'll still be living there!"

Gerard's eyes gleamed with faith again. Deep down, he felt that foreboding, a dreary feeling, recurring; it was as if someone didn't like seeing him happy. As if someone was trying to knock down all his faith, which, again: unfair. 

Frank gently placed his hand above Gerard's, comfortingly, and gave him a sweet smile of content. "I mean...we located her. Christ—I can't explain to you how happy I feel."

"Even if we don't know what to fucking do with all this?" Gerard looked up at him through his bangs, his lips gradually shaping themselves into a smile.

"Even so—" Frank was cut off by the hawk-eyed lady behind them, who informed them of the library's closing time. And so, they traced their sought area of the map sloppily onto a paper, and began returning the maps to the shelves.

***

"Sleepyheads...Up!" Mikey busted into Gerard's bedroom, irking them about school and unnecessarily yelling. _Going through excruciating pain just to wake up,_  Gerard thought in his head, stretching a bit and half-open eyed examining sleeping-Frank. He lastly decided to drift off to sleep again, curling up and around Frank on his bed. "No, no, no—" Mikey cried out disapprovingly, yanking the duvet off of their bodies, "you guys get up. Mom's gonna blow if she learns that you're missing school again. And you know who's gonna listen to her grumble. Up."

"Rise and shine, motherfuckers!" An annoying voice rang through Gerard's head, utterly familiar. He rolled over tiredly and looked cross-eyed at the diminutive figure in his room.

"Seriously? What's he doing here?" he muttered and nodded his head at Pete, who smiled his wry, usual smile and heard Gerard groan. Frank started waking up with all that fuss around him. 

Mikey walked over to Frank and poked cheek, having completed his mission on irritatingly waking Gerard. "Ugh, come on, you two. When did you return last night?" An evasive, muffled answer escaped Gerard's lips, which Mikey didn't appreciate. "Look—I don't wanna rush you or anything, but you've got ten minutes to get ready. If you keep skipping, mom's gonna come back and I don't really want her and dad to come back yet. So, up, you fuckers. Now. I ain't paying the price because of your lazy asses."

Despite themselves, Gerard and Frank got up, the feeling of giddiness hammering them cruelly. They'd certainly had less than two hours of sleep, but oh well. 

To be fair, Gerard explicitly agreed with Mikey; he didn't want his parents to come back that soon. Therefore, he and Frank were forced to haul themselves to stand on their feet and trudge to school.

Unfortunately, they were unlucky enough to have the two first periods with Mr. Johnson—though Frank managed to sleep it off. And when that ordeal was over, another one began.

The shock of the fourth period with Mr. Barneson convulsed Gerard awake and alarmed.

"Gerard Way," Mr. Barneson called, and Gerard didn't make the effort to raise his hand too high. He glanced at the teacher, who threw him a look of utter disapproval and wished him luck, which was ominous-looking enough. Now, Gerard could dwell on that and act offended, but he didn't feel like it then.

He looked down at the test with low-expectations and even they were crushed.

"Three percent?!" he sat back, pop-eyed, sort of stunned, quite honestly. He'd never had lower than five; that was an achievement. He stared intensely at the red 'F' on the paper, as if was going to magically transmute. 

In spite of his surprise, Mr. Barneson raised his eyebrows and re-approached him. "Oh, no, it's thirty. That's a zero right there, see?" he clarified and underlined the two digits on the paper with his pen. Subsequently, ignoring Gerard's sudden dull expression, he handed Frank his test back as well, who had apparently reached a 'D'. Then, he eyed Gerard again seriously. "I would be concerned," he told him, as though he gave a fuck.

Gerard waited until the teacher turned away to sigh. He despised that fake attitude of theirs. The teachers that acted like they actually gave a damn about something else, other than getting their sweet salary on that last day of the month. 

"Why the fuck did we take this if we're graduating in a month?" Mark's voice echoed in the classroom. Mr. Barneson shook his head and closed his eyes, looking rather disappointed as everyone in the classroom began yelling supportive of Mark before he had the time to speak. 

There was a knock on the door that caught the teacher's attention and made him look like he'd found his salvation. He reached for the handle and opened it, revealing two suited men and the principal. Nevertheless, that didn't manage to cease the yelling and talking in the classroom. 

Mr. Barneson murmured something to the principal and turned to look in Frank's direction, his eyebrows risen. 

Gerard couldn't exactly tell what was happening. He couldn't identify the suited men's faces he barely saw. The teacher approached Frank and told him to get his stuff—that was all Gerard's ear could catch at least. Frank tried to see for himself but was asked to hurry up.

He threw Gerard a fraught look, who tried to talk to him but got no response. The principal gestured Frank to come along and he obeyed. 

Once he was out of the classroom, the door slammed shut, making Gerard flinch. 

The sound of laughter and yells didn't divert his thoughts; Frank had just left and heaven knew why and where to.  He stared blankly at the door, waiting patiently for it to open. 

He waited five minutes in that motionless position, like a puppy. Waiting to see Frank appear and sit next to him, smile warmly and reassuringly. Tell him something like:  _"Oh, what? You thought I left? You dumbass, what if the zombie apocalypse breaks out? I can't leave you unescorted."_

But that didn't happen after five minutes. And okay, Gerard would've been just okay if it had happened after ten, but it  _didn't._  And goddammit, he couldn't think rationally. Only if one of his friends was there to help him, but no, all he had in that class was a fucking huddle of  _still_  yelling airheads. 

The door remained closed and the clock showed ten minutes forward. 

Gerard felt like he was suffocating. 

The teacher was still striving to get everyone to shut up. 

Suddenly, Gerard arose from his seat and asked to be excused to use the bathroom. 

When he opened the door, seeing that nobody was around in the hallway felt like a stab in the chest. A dagger shearing through his heart.

He walked onward hesitantly, eyes roving around and scanning for Frank, but there was no sign of him and it started to mentally hurt Gerard after a while. He felt his stomach coil and twist. The ambiance of the empty hallway felt inexplicably strange and new; something was utterly off and he knew it. 

Feeling lost, he turned around several times to confirm that nobody was around him. He glanced quickly at the classroom's door, an idea overwhelming him and causing him to feel chills descend his spine. 

He began his determined pace, making up a plan in his head as he continued to march down the hallway and toward the secretariat. He froze outside the door, hesitating.  _Now or never,_  he thoughtand stepped into the secretary's office resolutely.

His eyes were met with a woman's wrinkly face. She fixed her tiny glasses and examined Gerard carefully, narrowing her eyes. 

"Well, Way," she said in her penetrating, throaty voice, raising an eyebrow scornfully, "I think I told you last time you were here that I don't want to see you no more. You don't look too sick to me, don't tell me you need to go home again, boy."

"Hey, Barbara," Gerard faked a smile, thinking,  _it's for a good cause, you need to learn where Frank is._  And the only way to do that, of course, was learning were the principal was. The question was; how the hell does he build up to ask that, and additionally, how the hell does he convince old-Barbara; that bitch hated him, for sure. "Looking good," he commented and cleared his throat.

"I don't have time for your shenanigans, Way," she remarked, curling her upper lip in repulsion. "What do you need?"

Gerard heard the door behind them open but didn't bother looking at the person. His mind deemed it inconsequential at the moment, since that person wasn't Frank.

He looked all puppy-eyes at the old lady. "I need a favor. I have to know where the pr—"

"No favors left to spare you, boy. I've done it enough in the past," the old lady interrupted, clearly apathetic. What the hell? Frank might as well have been kidnapped, why didn't she care to help Gerard? 

He had to bite down on his lip to lessen his anger when someone emerged from inside the principal's office and tapped her on the shoulder, gesticulating wildly for her to follow, as she did. 

Gerard was at a loss. He felt forlorn and hopeless for a moment, like his seams were being ripped one by one. Suddenly, a hand settled on his shoulder, sort of poking him arrhythmically, rather irritatingly. 

He turned to face the person, scowling.

"Uh..." His eyes suddenly grew wide at the sight of the Aaron Anderson grinning at him. It took a moment to fathom, but then he realized that the guy was wearing glasses. Gerard cleared his throat nervously. "W-what are you—?"

"Hello. Gerard, wasn't it?" the guy said, still grinning. Gerard couldn't help but notice how different the guy looked outside of the class. So leisured. Well...even more leisured, if that's even possible. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Uhh—No, forget it, I was just leaving," Gerard changed his mind rapidly and began slowly pacing away, as if the guy was going to attack him and drink his blood at any moment.

Aaron Anderson chuckled in amusement. "You kids are so fun. I love messing with you."

Gerard removed his clamped hand from the door handle and looked back at the guy, brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"I wonder what you kids think of me, I'd be thrilled to have a teacher like me in high school. Man, this rocks. Being a teacher, I mean." Another giggle escaped the guy's lips as he pushed his hair back casually and elated. 

Okay, Gerard was very confused. But also intrigued. 

He replied to the guy's question bluntly, "They think you're a pedophile."

The guy stepped back, astonished, and let out a triumphant laugh. "Hell yeah, they do! Well, it's kinda lame, 'cause you're not afraid of me yet, I need to work more on that, but—"

"You want us to be afraid of you...?" Gerard repeated. The guy either had some weird fetish or he was high on something. "So, all that creepiness was just an act?"

"Course it is. This job would be pretty darn boring, otherwise. And the hitting on you—Look, man, I'm sure you're totally chill and all, but I have a girlfriend. It was fun, though, I couldn't resist," Anderson patted him on the back, still smiling, which was starting to creep Gerard out a bit. Okay, the whole situation was creeping him out, but  _hell_ ; the smile was stapled onto the guy's lips. "I had fun hitting on you. I hope I can make up for being creepy. Hey, I can totally cover up for you ditching school sometime. How about that?"

Gerard looked stunned. The guy had to be joking. Except if he didn't care about losing his job. "Really?" Gerard tested him. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation just a few steps away from the principal's office. "Are you messing with me again?"

"Nope. To be honest, I think I'm gonna leave now too. I've got a bunch of seven graders now and I'm not really in the mood for that," Anderson looked around, contemplating. "Yeah, I'm gonna go. I can cover up for you  _now_  if you want. If you don't want to stretch it out too much and wait until next week. Cause I'm not coming back for the rest of this boring week."

Gerard couldn't believe his luck. One moment he was nodding, and then when the secretary lady appeared again, he was suddenly allowed to go home—all thanks to some excuse Aaron Anderson had made up for him. He thanked the guy twice—in his head, a million times—and headed off. 

Halfway through walking out of the building hastily, he stumbled upon the principal.

"Wait—Sir!" he called automatically, running toward him, and the middle-aged man turned around. 

"Way, boy, you should be heading home," he advised, frowning worriedly. "Mr. Anderson informed us about your...condition. It's not healthy to keep it in, you go home, child. My son's going through the same thing."

"Wha—" Gerard frowned but realized there was no time to emphasize on irrelevant details. "Yes, um, sir. Do you know where Frank Iero is? I saw you leaving earlier, but...He's got my, um...my cell phone! Yes, we were together yesterday and I lent it to him," he lied, a sense of epiphany hitting him.

"He does?" The man rubbed his chin, pondering cautiously. "Well, I'm afraid you two have to figure it out another time. His father was here, it was a family emergency. I'm afraid you might not see him soon, though, son. I don't want to interfere or spread false information, but they're leaving...today, from what I got."

Numbness swept over Gerard's face as it turned ashen white from the shock. He felt the world around him spin a little. This couldn't be happening.  _No._  He simply refused to let his hopes get crossed out. 

There was no time for anything. Each ticking of the clock diminished the few possibilities and hope he had left. Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it fast.

Faintly nodding, the principal waved at him and began shuffling off back to his office. 

Once he turned away, Gerard ran off immediately. 

Outside, he whipped his cell phone out and texted Ray to pick up his stuff from room 202. He didn't have time to go get anything. He needed to do something.  _Anything_.

He slapped himself in the face, trying to incite some logic back to his mind, because he'd told himself that this couldn't be happening many times, but it indisputably  _was,_ and there was no time to lose fussing over how and why.

Breathing heavily and wanting to burst into tears, he finally concluded it was best to turn to the police. 

The wind blew, chill against his red-turning cheek. 

He gazed at the ominously clouded sky once and ran off like a bolt of lightning.


	19. Chapter 19

His cell phone buzzed. 

Ray had texted him back, asking where he'd gone, but Gerard chose not to reply. 

Rigid, his body muscles were uncooperative when he decided to step inside the police station, expressing their own complaints, which Gerard really didn't have time for. His mouth felt dry as a desert when he finally went inside.

Busy people in suits ran past him, talking, some laughing, but no one paying the slightest of their attention to him. Mild shivers and his accelerated heartbeat held him back from running up to the front desk, enraged. 

For a moment, everything he could think of doing seemed worthless. Frank wasn't around. But then again, Frank wasn't going to ever be around again if Gerard just stood there forever, limp. 

His chest rose and fell steadily. He walked over to the front desk; the face behind was easily recognizable. Relief loosened his stiff muscles.

"G'day, Way," Officer Thomas smirked and took his hat off, raising an eyebrow at the student's unexpected arrival at this time of day. "Can I do something for you, son?" 

Suddenly, Gerard seemed unable to let words come out of his mouth again. He remained stock-still with his mouth agape. But it was utterly unfair; he'd come so far, nothing was going to stop him. He had to report this, even if he hadn't gotten Frank's consent.

"I want to report something." 

His resoluteness spoke for him, made his chest deluge with faith. Well, sort of. He still felt his surroundings spin slightly, still reminiscent of his encounter with the principal. Still abhorring himself, because he hadn't grabbed Frank and ran off when he had the chance to.

"Well, you just lemme get a pen and I'll be right back." The man disappeared through a door, and Gerard stood there frozen, impeded from doing anything else. A while later, the man trod out of the room with a pen and a notepad in his hands. 

Gerard couldn't recall his thinking being that muddled ever before. It was as if someone had slapped him with a fish and he didn't know what to do. Yell or tiptoe out of the situation. Officer Thomas seemed to notice the lack of emotion on his face; Gerard had simply blacked out. 

"I hear ya, my boy. Tell me what's wrong," he prompted, his lips reaching an approximation of a smile.

Gerard's downcast eyes flicked up to look at the man. "I—" he began, still hesitant, then added in one quick breath, "my friend is being abused by his parent."

The elder man put his pad down slowly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the teenager. "Gerard, wasn't it? I want ya to think, Gerard, if this is a fact or just an assumption. Child maltreatment's a serious crime, and if you don't have any corroborative ev—"

"I'm absolutely certain, sir." Gerard tried to look less wistful and more stern. Officer Thomas cleared his throat and picked up his pad again, starting to scribe down a few things for himself.

"Very well, then," he gave in and sighed. "Tell me more. Name of the person, age, address—everythin' you know is useful. And remember, you're a hero for doin' this right now, Gerard. You're doin' good. Let's start with the name of this friend of yours."

Gerard uttered out directly, "Frank Iero."

The man's eyes immediately grew wide and met Gerard's. Absently, he tossed his pad and pen over the table and opened a door behind him, his eyes still fixed on Gerard. He gestured; inviting the teenager in the room. 

Confounded, Gerard accepted and stepped inside, hearing the door creak shut behind him. The room was obviously the officer's office; pictures of him and his family were all over his desk, the walls, and bookcases with golden badges and framed certificates. Gerard seated himself on a chair, going along with the man's requests and invites full of affability. 

Whatever he'd said must've stirred something in Officer Thomas. 

"My dear boy," he half-whispered, his courtesy seeming to abruptly be dead and gone, "you don't wanna get mixed up in this."

In spite of the man's declaration, Gerard decided to answer with contempt. "If it's got to do with my friend, then I believe I do."

"There's only so much the police can do with that Iero family," the elder man ignored Gerard's statement, replying in a tone drenched with seriousness. And then a laugh escaped him; the laugh was a sharp contrast to his earlier gravity. "And, believe it or not, they've done it!"

"There has to be something more you can do," Gerard huffed, certain. When the officer didn't move an inch in that short period of silence, doubt began to overwhelm him greatly. He felt defeated, stabbed in the back. "But you're supposed to help! That's your job. Frank has no one right now, he's surrounded by people who mistreat him constantly. He _needs_  help."

Officer Thomas shook his head vigorously and scoffed. "You don't seem to understand, sonny. That family's dangerous."

"Exactly why you should fucking stop them," Gerard answered in a matter-of-fact manner, leaning forward. His gaze flicked away to the floor as he let out a faint sigh of disappointment. "There has to be something you can do about Frank. Just Frank."

Crouching down to meet Gerard's eyes, Officer Thomas seemed to be getting rather jittery. The words he spoke were forced past his greeted teeth. "Listen to me, my boy, Robin Todd Iero is a neurasthenic, a criminal that shouldn't be out loose in the world, and his brother ain't thinking critically. He's coverin' up for him without having the slightest idea— God bless your friend, that boy, for stayin' courageous, holdin' on. But if we dare set a foot on Iero's lawn, another chain of five people will be dead by the next day. And we can't afford to do that."

Twisted, Gerard's lungs barely functioned. Each word the man uttered felt like a reprimanding slap. He was seriously suggesting—rather trying to convince Gerard that there was no other choice—that Gerard should back off tacitly, which, okay:  _not a chance._

He glanced up at the man's fretful eyes. "If you don't do something about Frank...I will."

Officer Thomas stood up sluggishly, looking down at Gerard with utter firmness. "You just don't know what you're getting yourself into, boy," he assumed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "I feel sorry for you, and that's as far as I can go; warn you."

Gerard's eyebrows met. He scoffed in disbelief and leaned forward to bang his fist on the table. "Sir, my friend's in  _danger._ "

The lack of response discouraged him; he was let down. Coming to the police for help was a misstep, a waste of his valuable, little time; Frank was right when he'd told him that there was nothing they could do. Gerard found it hard to believe at first, but all he felt after that experience was shame. Hell, Frank had tried  _before_  him. 

Apoplectic with rage, Gerard stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him angrily, and scurried out of the busy building, crowded with unhelpful, busy people.  _Fuck them_ , he thought indignantly. 

Outside, his pacing was gradually becoming more and more halting. He found himself at a loss, completely clueless. His mind was unable to consider, murky. An aggravating mist, a cloudy disdainful thought of defeat surrounded him.

But he figured he just had to persist, try to wave it away. 

He had to think of something. For Frank's sake.

***

He arrived home. At least he hadn't forgotten his keys in his backpack. 

In that state of inescapable desperation, he shoved things off tables, threw them to the floor, and rushing upstairs, he forcefully kicked his bedroom door, wishing to revert to yesterday. If he could only go back, if he'd known earlier, he'd never let Frank go anywhere near the school. He'd take him and run away; better be clueless as to where to go next...much better than to be  _this_  kind of clueless.

He screamed, and yelled, and punched, and kicked the door again, hardly noticing that a tear had streamed down his red, burning cheek. He hardly cared, then. Moreover, he hardly cared about his then bleeding hand. His default response to everything at that moment had become 'fuck you'. His knuckles stung and tingled as blood trickled down his tented fingers. 

Painful or not, it didn't matter. 

He banged his head against the door twice, when suddenly and inexplicably, he felt the floor underneath his feet dissolve, as the door opened and he fell flat on his face. 

"Gerard?!" a familiar voice rang in his head.

He sniffed, looked up at Pete, and exclaimed the first thing that rose to his mind; "What the fuck are you doing in my room?"

"I—uh...Your room's real fucking cozy, so...I didn't come to school and Mikey told me to, uh, lounge around, so...yeah." Pete extended his hand and managed to haul Gerard to his feet. His knees slightly trembled. "Are you okay? Dude, I thought somebody broke in, I was about to call the police!"

Gerard sighed and walked over to his bed wearily. "Yeah, they wouldn't do shit. Trust me. They'd let the bugler murder you."

Disquietude overwhelmed Pete as another tear streamed down Gerard's cheek. He examined, concerned, his exasperated face; his eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pressed together tightly, and his nose had visible crinkles. And for Pete, that would normally be enough; he wanted to help somehow, provide some hearty comfort, hug him maybe. But Pete wasn't drunk this time; he knew this was Gerard. His every move had to be cautious.

"Listen, um," he placed his hand on Gerard's shoulder, offering some consolation, but Gerard shook it off torpidly, "what are you upset about? I'm sure, whatever it is, it can be helped. Wanna...tell me?"

That barely prized Gerard away from his own world. He stood there still, holding himself back from crumbling and crying. He only let out a sad sigh, reminding himself, "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Pete tilted his head to the side, trying to catch Gerard's eyes, but to no avail. "Did something happen to...anyone? I know this isn't the right time, but...I don't know, you came back early and with nothing on you. Where are the others?"

"School," Gerard mumbled and moved to sit on the floor, cradling himself and hiding his face. Gulping once, Pete hunkered down next to him. "Leave, for God's sake. I wanna be alone!"

"You're usually hanging out with that one guy...Frank? Wasn't it? Where's he, why isn't he with you?" Pete ignored him and asked anyway. 

In spite of his prediction, Gerard didn't pounce on him like a jaguar. Not yet, anyway.

"God—away. To who knows where. I won't ever see him again." He lifted his head and glanced up at the ceiling, looking like he was expecting God to enlighten him. 

Pete latched onto that chance he got and asked further, "Is he gone? Wha—why?"

"It doesn't matter. Only thing that does is that he's about to go and if I want to run after him, my time and plans are limited. Ugh—I don't fucking know how!" Gerard sprang up in his despair. Fuck it, he thought, if he was planning on running after Frank, he needed more brains to devise more probable plans.

"You don't know how to...run after him?" 

"Yea—I mean, no! I  _do_  know how to do that but—"

"Then do it and don't think about it too much," Pete shrugged. Gerard was having a hard time finding trust and coming to a conclusion, since he didn't know how much of Pete he should trust. Recalling that time back in September, when he'd flipped out in front of his friends just because the name Pete for him was as inflaming as a red flag for a bull, Gerard had a hard time deciding. 

He trusted Ray and Ray believed that people change. 

Gerard was really torn asunder, confronted with Ray's opinions, and with his own suppositions about that peculiar being, Pete Wentz. It was the next question Pete asked that roused and dragged Gerard back to the real world, causing him to forget his troubling dilemma.

"You like him, don't you?" 

Gerard was too tentative to give an immediate answer to that, especially since he had some questions to ask Pete himself. Firstly, how did he know? Secondly, why did he care? Lastly, why was he still in Gerard's bedroom without Gerard's consent? 

"I figured it out, it's not that hard...Um...Okay, maybe I lied, I caught you guys kissing," Pete went on, at this point, talking to himself. 

Shaking the anarchy of thoughts in his head away, Gerard determined, "I need to think." He perked up, struggling to come up with something. Goddammit, why wasn't Pete helping? The only reason Gerard hadn't thrown him out of the window yet was that he needed a second brain to work stuff out sooner. 

"Where is he now?" Pete asked—gratuitously, as Gerard thought.

"I don't know! I hope he's still here, he's leaving today. That's what the principal told me, but I know Frank doesn't  _want_  to leave. I know he's in no good hands and he knows that too. I just need to get to him,  _somehow._ "

"By no good hands, you mean...his parents?" The absence of a reply was enough for Pete to come to his own conclusions, regardless of their accuracy. His eyebrows contracted when his thoughts clashed; he didn't know if he'd do any good by suggesting what he had in mind, but he did it, nevertheless. "Then go...and take him...and then, run?"

It was not in the nature of Pete Wentz to be that flat, that inarticulate. However, it sort of pushed Gerard's receptivity. Suddenly, the idea of him and Frank 'forging their lives into a Smiths song' didn't seem that implausible. It rather seemed complicated; but still achievable. 

Gerard's eyes were accusingly fixed on Pete's, which gradually became worrying. Pete blinked stupidly and asked, "Was that senseless? I'm sorry."

"I think that's the most genius thing you've ever said to me," Gerard admitted, nodding approvingly at Pete, who beamed up instantaneously, as if he'd gotten the president's endorsement and ten trophies for what he'd said, or something. "But I still don't know how."

"Well...if you don't have any time to lose, then get up right now. We'll think of something," boosted-Pete said, confident that he had a solution to anything and everything from then and on.

***

Two hours of anxiety and panic passed. Yet, to some extent, it had a satisfactory outcome, since Gerard had managed to draw an elaborate picture in his head of what he was planning to do. 

Then, he wasted five minutes circling and pacing around his phone to determine whether he should or shouldn't call Frank. There were a few reasons he clearly shouldn't, and those incorporated risks such as someone else picking up Frank's phone, or Frank getting in trouble by virtue of Gerard's call, which Gerard couldn't bring himself to think about. 

Pete had obediently done what he was told and left Gerard to decide alone. After all, there was nothing more Pete could do; that was merely Gerard that had to act. But, to be fair, Pete had been quite efficient those past two hours. 

Gerard was frantic. He needed Frank's word and, in order to get Frank's word, he needed to reach Frank somehow. 

He closed his eyes and pressed 'call'. 

The first beeping sound made his heart race. The second was like a snake's bite. By the time he got to the third and forth he felt his heart sink. No answer. 

But before he had the time to hang up, someone hung up on him. 

And Gerard was, in plain words, confused. Later, the fear of someone else having Frank's phone in their hands hit him hard—but every thought was temporarily erased when he saw 'incoming call' blinking onto the screen. 

Blacked out, he gawked at his cell phone. Something in him prompted and shoved him into agreeing to press the green button on the keypad. 

"H-hello?" he answered.

"Is that you, Gerard?" Gerard heard Frank stammering in a hushed tone through the phone, the first syllable brought chills down his spine. Simultaneously, chills of shock and alleviation. "Gerard, fuck, speak, goddammit. I don't have much time, I need to tell you..."

"Tell me what?" Gerard chose to answer, dumbly.

"I'm guessing you know already...I need to say goodbye," Frank added belatedly, sighing painfully. Gerard's speech hitched on his throat for a moment, he got lost, until he remembered—

"No, that's not happening," he huffed out, "I'll tell you what's happening. Actually, where are you right now?"

Frank let out a quivering breath, as if it physically hurt him to say this. "Gerard—home. It doesn't matter. I won't be here for long and—No. Y'know, I think calling you back wasn't a good idea, after all. I don't like saying goodbye."

Gerard scoffed in disbelief. "No. No, no, no. You're not saying goodbye, fuck, Frank, I'm going to—" The crackling sound from the other end of the line ceased all of a sudden, and Gerard knew what had happened. A long beep followed, making his head ache so much, it felt like his brain was burning.

Clenching his cell phone in his fist, he felt like breaking down again. He plunked it down and left his room. 

There wasn't anything else in the world that discouraged him more than Frank sounding like he'd lost all hope.

He shouted vacantly in the house that he was leaving, his voice echoed, and before Pete had the time to come out and see, Gerard had skipped out of the house.

***

A wave of bad conscience washed over him. He'd found Frank's house, alright. 

But he couldn't run up to the house immediately. He felt _chained,_ as if something was holding him back. 

A moving van was parked out of the Iero household, cardboard boxes and furniture were scattered all over the place. Hell. What at first had struck him as a fancy, flawless house, now resembled the devil's palace. 

Right then, Gerard felt like someone had distributed him a blank page and ordered him to fill it with words; yet he didn't know how to begin. Once he'd found that right move, he'd know how to proceed, but he didn't what to do first.

He kept moving in circles, endeavoring to come up with something. Stuck and squished between one lie and one truth, he didn't know which to pick. One option would be lying, tell Frank's father that he and Frank had an important assignment—and God, Gerard still couldn't fathom that he was going to confront Frank's father. Another option would be straight up punching the guy in the face and getting Frank to run, which, okay, he really wanted to do.

Be that as it may, he managed to trod over to the house and stick his finger on the doorbell, but without letting go. For another moment, he was dubious, wondering if he was doing the right thing, wondering if Frank wanted this. 

Finally, he snatched his hand back and listened to the tuneful sound of the doorbell ring. 

The sound of someone yelling made him flinch slightly, until it ceased. 

The door handle was pressed down and Gerard felt his heart being cradled and paralyzed. A bald, dark-suited man was revealed before him when the door opened. A vitriolic, venomous expression was written upon his face; brow risen, lip curled, and all.

"Can I help you?" Despite the elegant suit, the man's professionalism and civility were immediately crossed out when the smell of alcohol reached Gerard's nostrils. His ears caught faint bangs and thumps without picking up on the source. Trying to look behind the man's shoulder in hope to catch Frank's eyes was no use. The man was blocking his sight with his broad shoulders. 

"I'm looking for Frank," Gerard announced firmly.

The man's expression changed to a frown. "And who might you be?" 

"My name is Gerard," he said, his upper lip curling slightly in disgust. He mightily tried to ignore his rapid heartbeat and added in scorn, "And I was going to ask you the same thing."

The frown on the man's face strengthened. "Well...I don't know who you think you are, Gerard, but you're ringing at  _my_  door. I think it's quite obvious this is  _my_  house." 

 _Well, that's Frank's father, alright,_  Gerard thought in his head. 

The man drew neared and looked down at him haughtily. He whipped out a phone from his pocket and swung it in front of Gerard's eyes tauntingly, a smirk forming on his lips. "So, you're Gerard."

Gerard's brows snapped together and he pursed his lips. 

"You're the prominent Gerard that called earlier. Well, nice to meet you. I am the one that made Frank hang up in your face," the man grinned and bit his bottom lip. His facial features manifested signs of tenfold malice. At this point, Gerard wanted to kick the guy in the balls.

"Pleasure," Gerard let out a sardonic laugh and rolled his eyes. He actually was dying to say:  _fuck you, sadistic pig,_ but he figured it wasn't the right time yet. "I really need to see Frank now." 

Swiftly, the grin on Frank's father evaporated into a serious expression that nauseated Gerard. He likened it to a snake's bite; it was as toxic and as excruciatingly painful.

"Well, let me tell you something,  _Gerard_ ," the man said in a mocking tone, even more toxic than his face, as he drew closer, "you're not going to see Frank not now, not tomorrow, not  _ever._ "

Right then, everything Frank had said before about that man flashed back into Gerard's mind and fanned his rage. Everything he could think of was just another reason to punch the man before him in the fucking face, forcefully and vengefully.

"Fags," was just the right word to top it all off. It was the cherry on a cake. The final reason Gerard needed. 

He clenched his fist and squinted when it collided with the laughing man's jaw, causing him to hit a piece of furniture and tumble down, fall on his back.

Gerard's lips were pressed together tightly, looking at the laying man. Miraculously, when he glanced up, his eyes met Frank's who had just managed to unlock himself and burst forth, out of his room. 

"Gerard?!" he exclaimed loudly, incredulous, and ran toward him, ignoring the lying man on the floor, who had started achingly standing up.

"You—you piece of shit!" he hissed at them, rubbing his jaw furiously. 

Gerard grabbed Frank's hand tightly. Bringing reminiscences forth to Gerard's foggy mind, Frank suggested rightly, "You reckon we should run?"

Startled, Gerard blinked and agreed, "Run, yes, right."

And before the man had the time to get up, both of them had become the physical embodiment of lighting.

Groans, grumbles, and threats pointlessly escaped the man's lips. 

"Frank! Get your ass back here! You'll regret this, you'll see, you stupid fuck!"


	20. Chapter 20

"Frank—hey, hey, stop, it's fine. We can stop running now." 

Gerard placed his hand on panting-Frank's chest to stop his faltering running, struggling to catch his own breath. Wide-eyed, Frank stared at him and abruptly flung himself on Gerard, tackling and bringing them both to the ground. 

For Gerard, whose back was uncomfortably on the concrete sidewalk, the hug wasn't as pleasant. Nevertheless, he let it linger. He felt like he needed it to. Feeling Frank's breath feather against his neck, finally, a wave of genuine, placatory relief washed over him. 

He squeezed Frank a fraction tighter and laid soft kisses on his ear. There, breathing more slowly, Frank let his body melt into Gerard's arms and loosened every muscle. In Gerard's embrace, he felt the world stop still on its axis.

"I don't want to ever go back there. Don't ever let me go, okay? Those hours were the worst of my whole life," he said beseechingly, voice quivering. "Don't you ever let me go back, please, Gerard, just promise me this."

"Never gonna happen again," Gerard promised and buried his face in Frank's hair, caressing his cheek with one hand. 

Disorder in Frank's head had taken over; the paralyzing feeling of relief trying to overthrow every other. He'd accepted his doom and let hopelessness conquer his mind previously, and now he had to erase all that. Mayhem had now been all sucked up by a cloud of euphoria that spread optimism in his head, not leaving a single dark thought behind. It was mystifying, no matter how hard he'd try to explain it, Frank couldn't put it into words. A brightening mitigation; so elating, so inexplicable—like Gerard.

Brushing his fingers over Frank's shoulder, Gerard only then seemed to realize that it had bruised. 

"I knocked down my door," Frank explained suddenly, trying to conceal his pent-up emotions and feign okay-ness by letting out a laugh, that didn't manage to convince Gerard in the slightest. 

"With your shoulder?" Gerard wondered how it must've hurt, and placed his lips on Frank's shoulder, drawing him closer and hearing him slightly hiss in pain. 

"Well," Frank began, wincing, "I tried doing it with my shoulder, but it didn't work, so I had to kick it down."

Gerard loosened his grip around him and pulled away. "What happened, anyway? Why did he lock you down there in the first place?"

"Like I ever know what it is with him." Frank rolled his eyes and lowered his gaze. "I don't wanna talk about it. He took my cell phone and locked the door. I don't know for how long, but I remember seeing you from my window and I began shouting and calling for you, but you didn't hear me. I figured you were coming...and so, I kicked the door down." A faint smile appeared on his lips. "Good hit, by the way."

Gerard tittered. "Yeah, oops, sorry about that." 

Frank shook his head equivocally and struggled to get up on his own, feeling his knees tingle and tremble. He helped Gerard up and they just stayed there for a while, looking deeply into each other's eyes, musing. 

"What happens now?" Frank asked, sounding slightly brittle. 

Glancing at a car, and then tilting his head to look at the Way household, particularly focusing on  _their_  car, Gerard smirked. "Can you drive?"

Looking over his shoulder, trying to understand what was happening in Gerard's mind, Frank frowned. "No...?"

Without analyzing Frank's 'no' too much, Gerard had already begun to plan stuff out in his head. He gazed at the saturnine, pink sky and guessed it couldn't be too late. 

"We need to see Ray. I'll need some help remembering, it's been ages."

***

When they stepped inside the house, Gerard got a rather more unpleasant greeting than Frank, as Mikey pinned him against the wall and growled at him, "Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

Gerard flung his hands in the air. "Wow. Okay. Maybe telling Pete to break the news wasn't a good idea after a—"

"What's...happening?" Frank wondered, looking anxiously between the Way brothers and Ray, who'd just arrived, as puzzled-looking as Frank. 

But Frank immediately regretted daring to ask, since Mikey turned his piercing gaze accusingly at him. "You guys are running away, you're bailing out on us!" he hissed the last sentence at his brother, feeling rather betrayed. "And you told Pete out of everyone! That makes it even more complicated than I thought it was."

"I promise, I'll explain...another time," Gerard added and placed his hands on his brother's shoulders, eyeing him in a serious manner. Since Frank had been gone for a few hours, he had absolutely no idea what the two brothers were murmuring about, but what Gerard forgot to mention was that Mikey didn't really know what they were murmuring about either. 

"So," Bob walked in and said in a hushed tone, "you're one hundred percent sure about leaving. There's no way to get you guys to change your mind?"

In vain, Frank tried to interfere by throwing a bunch of 'woah, woah, what's in the whole fuss, trying to win an explanation, but they mostly got shoved aside, for the time being. There came eventually a time that Mikey Way put down his guns and gave in, wanting to trust and trusting his brother with his whole heart. He wrapped an arm around Gerard's shoulders and pulled him close. 

"Come on, let's give them a minute," Bob encouraged and tried his best to smile. Ray, Frank, and Pete followed him into the living room, leaving the two brothers alone. 

"I promise to cover up for you," Mikey announced with a heavy heart, "if you swear to keep in touch while you're away. Fucking—where are you even  _going_ , Gerard? Do you know what you're doing? I know you fucking like Frank, but I didn't know it was that...deep."

Gerard huffed a laugh and pushed the last words aside, deciding to clarify, "It's just temporary, I don't know what's gonna happen. And it's not 'running away', I'm not running away. Think of it as an...excursion. I swear I'll call in every day."

"No, you won't. We both know that." Mikey nudged him and pushed him away lightheartedly. He leaned on him and hugged him again. "I love you, but you suck for making me feel like this now. You better be careful out there."

"I will. I promise."

Mikey sighed. "Kay..." A memory rose to his mind, quite fresh, and he giggled aloud to himself before sharing it. "Y'know, when Pete told me earlier, and I went freaking nuts at first, Ray said something cheesy, but man, he was right. He said that if you and Frank—"

At this point, knowing how Ray and Mikey liked to tease him about Frank, Gerard expected Mikey to quip again. Wrongly, he began gambling in his head on what the joke would be about this time. Yet he was quite shocked to learn that Mikey wasn't planning on dropping another lame, you-two-lovebirds joke. 

"If you and Frank...like each other so much, since that's a rare thing you do, no offense, I should let you chase your dreams, or whatever. And I, uh, agree. So, um," Mikey briefly paused to catch his fleeing thoughts and put them into words, "at least, after your long chase, bring me back something. I don't care if that's a fucking smile on your face, or something along those lines. Bring me the sun, bring me a friendship ring, I don't fucking know. Just let me know that it's worth it...because I'm gonna be worrying my ass back here."

Inadvertently, Gerard laughed. It wasn't funny or anything; it was touching. Mostly because, exactly a year ago, Mikey barely talked to him. Mikey was miserable and wouldn't come close to showing his emotions. Yet there he was, a year after, trying to prevent the tears from blurring his vision, acting like he was never going to see his brother again. 

"Just fucking promise me, you fucker," he whispered in Gerard's ear, his voice breaking. 

"Okay, I promise, I promise," Gerard repeated, losing a slight amount of his certainty in those words he let flow from his tongue. Thoughts flooded in his head right then. That sudden change of heart he saw in Mikey delivered him the most troubling, agonizing thoughts. 

"Fine..." Mikey sniffed and smiled warmly as his brother bumped his shoulder lightly. "Now, go before I start exaggerating. I'm playing big-brother on you too much these days, that's supposed to be your job." Mikey said and gave him a lopsided smile.

***

Gerard fumbled in his drawers, looking for something very specific. Fuck, he would definitely be pissed  _and_  screwed, if his mother had misplaced it or taken it. 

Frank observed him speechless, trying to cloak his bemusement.

"Here. That'll do. Catch!" Gerard tossed an empty bag to Frank, who wasn't as quick and let it fall carelessly. He stared blankly at the bag, as if Gerard had just loaded it with drugs. The collision going on in Frank's head, between baffling, reluctant thoughts and whatnot, had him unable to move. 

Gerard crouched down next to him and placed his hand on his knee to get his attention. "Okay, you have questions, I'm guessing."

"I don't have questions, Gerard—" Frank's frozen state finally broke as he rolled his eyes. "I just...You're leaving your house. To run away with me. I feel like I'm taking you away, I feel terrible."

"But this is my decision. I came up with that idea," Gerard insisted, worry flashing to the surface of his expression. Frank couldn't be doing this now, not after he'd just consented. If they wasted more time, it'd turn dark—not that that was going to stop Gerard or anything, but thinking of driving at dusk was more comforting than the thought of driving in the middle of the night. After all, Gerard hadn't driven a car in a long time; driving with some sunlight comforted him. 

Frank nodded and held a pillow close to his chest—qualm still inhabiting in there—as Gerard proceeded to rifle in his closet for whatever he was looking for. He froze for a second, and then, leaned forward to claw at what he'd found. Triumph glimmered in his eyes. 

"Fuck. Thank God," he murmured and got the glass jar out of his now-totally-disordered closet. The jar contained, for what he remembered, exactly two thousand and five hundred dollars from years ago, as well as some ear studs from Pete in middle school, and two silver cufflinks from his grandmother. 

If Frank was confused before, now he was panic-stricken. He couldn't count how many hundred-dollar bills Gerard had in his hands right then, but it sure looked like a hell of a lot to him. "Why do you keep all this money in your closet?" he asked Gerard, eyes wide. "And how did you get all this?"

"I was saving up for an electric guitar and some gear, but I didn't buy anything, because I eventually realized I sucked at guitar. Y'know, summer jobs, grandparents, birthdays. I saved up," Gerard explained in an offhand manner, as if he  _wasn't_  holding two thousand and five hundred dollars in his hands. He whipped out his wallet and placed the money, wedging them all in between some five dollar bills. Finally looking satisfied, he rummaged around for a few essential things to take with them—three or four shirts, as well as some stuff from the kitchen. Bob was clearly joking, but he suggested to store a knife somewhere—'it might come in handy'—and, okay, Gerard felt obliged by God to scoff at that. They were just going away; not trying to murder someone, nor write a book on how to  _not_  get away with murder. 

 

 

Pondering deeply, Mikey stared at them from inside the house, as Ray was trying to get Gerard to remember how to drive. They'd taken the old, rusty car Gerard's mother hadn't driven since she'd become an environmentalist, and struggled to see if it still functioned.  

"Try once more and if it doesn't—" Ray's voice trailed away once the car started making noises again. Finally, noises that didn't sound as dissonant. He leaned against the car and glanced at Gerard with a resigned expression. "Looks okay to me. I think that and another twenty bucks gas will be enough to get you to your grandma's. Depends on where and if you stop. I can't tell you anything else, because I don't know where the heck you're going."

Gerard nodded affirmatively and sat back, clutching his fists tightly around the steering wheel.

"Just don't let go of the steering wheel and you'll be fine," Ray commented after a moment's reflection, letting out a laugh. "Oh, and keep your eyes on the road, not on each other."

"Yeah, okay, Mom Toro. Will do," Gerard laughed and nudged him in the ribs lightly. He looked over his shoulder at Frank, who seemed to be talking with Bob and Pete. However, Mikey caught his attention most as he was approaching. "Anything else? You wanna tell me about how I should...I don't know...use condoms or something?" Gerard said to his brother and Ray, sarcastically. Clearly, Mikey didn't catch the sarcasm.

"Actually," he said, raising his index, a sly grin growing on his face, "I've stowed you guys a pocketful in your bag. You know. Just in case."

Oh, how wrong Gerard was to think that his brother would finally quit the jokes. "Mikey!" he said past greeted teeth, eyes wide open. He tried to launch at his brother and nudge him, but in the end, all he managed to do was hug him. 

"You be careful, okay? If something happens to any of you, I'll bring you back and kill you with my own hands," Mikey whispered and sighed sadly, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. He drew back and eyed Gerard. "And remember, you promised me."

Gerard nodded wildly. Dammit, Mikey was making it way too emotional, Gerard was going to crack. "Okay, okay."

"You got your cell?" 

"Yes, Mikey, I got it. Don't worry," Gerard giggled, rolling his eyes. 

"Hell," Mikey huffed out, only then realizing that; "you'll miss graduation. I totally forgot about that." He anticipated a reply from Gerard, but it remained absent. He only gave Mikey an evasive shrug that wasn't at all gratifying. 

Frank walked over to them, hugging himself against the wind. Gingerly, he lifted his gaze. You could say that he was more...concerned than Gerard. Actually, Gerard was quite thrilled, to be honest. 

Simultaneously, Gerard and Frank waved at the others from afar. Eyes fixed on Mikey, Gerard noted the faint smile he gave them. Internally, he captured that faint smile in his head and stored it carefully in his recollections. 

They got in the car and let out a heavy sigh at the same time. 

"So," Gerard began, but halfway realized he didn't want to say something. Tentatively, he clutched the steering wheel with one hand and placed the other on the gear shift. 

"So," Frank repeated, a smile finally making an appearance on his face. "Oh—um, yeah. We're actually doing this. Wow."

Inserting the keys into the ignition, Gerard was trying to figure out if he was placing his foot on the right pedal before actually turning the engine on. He didn't want to scare Frank with the car's abhorrent outcry. He released the key slowly and unsure. A grinding sound rumbled and pierced through his eardrums, making him cringe. 

Hesitantly, he tilted his head to glance at Frank after he'd properly started the engine. Much to his surprise, Frank looked less troubled. He noticed Gerard worriedly staring at him and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek, reaching out with his hand to touch his. 

"For good luck," Frank announced and sat back on his seat.

A wave of hope washed over Gerard, redeeming his confidence. "Here we go."


	21. Chapter 21

"I trust you know where we're going...right?" Frank's voice trailed away as he averted his gaze and observed the scenery they drove past. Everything around them had commenced looking more countryside-ish. That was the first time Frank had seen cows in his life too, and his strange reaction startled Gerard, since Frank acted like he'd seen Jesus walk on water. But in all honesty, escaping the town smog gave way to a peculiar sense of euphoria. Hell, and they'd only been twenty minutes in that car—Frank was awaiting anxiously, wondering what else they'd encounter. More cows, hopefully.

"I have some friends in the vicinity—not that far from here. They live near Boston," Gerard announced, glancing sideways at Frank quickly. As much as he tried to conceal it, he was quite contented with himself driving. Now that he'd gotten the hang of it, so to speak, he'd definitely brag to Ray, when andifthey went back. 

"Boston? Some friends?"

"Yeah." A corner of Gerard's mouth lifted. "They'll let us crash at their motel for one night. And, uh, guess we'll be needing to stop for gas sometime, 'cause I don't know shit about cars. Ray said something about a light blinking, but I just wanna be sure we won't run out of fuel in the middle of a highway."

To Frank, that sounded like a well-thought plan. However, Gerard felt the need to plan things out further—make Frank feel safe and secure, even though he didn't need to, as Frank seemed to think.

Now that they didn't have school grabbing them by their throats, they had all the time in the world. There was no need to think of stupid graduation again. The only thing after them was parents, but well, Gerard had faith that Mikey would cover up well for him.

Gerard had figured he'd drop out of school. He didn't know what to do after graduation, anyway, and this basically worked as yet another justification to opt out of it. As for Frank, he hadn't made his mind up. He always just went along with whatever opportunity the universe gave him. One thing he was sure about, though;  _damn_ , it felt good to be free. 

He was out of his lunatic father's house, he was out of that crazy-town, and this whole thing they were doing was totally out of this world.

Not to mention, he was  _with_ Gerard. And not temporarily, for a week or two or something, but for however long their hearts desired—or at least, until they were doomed, out of money and gas, but Frank didn't want to come near that thought. All he wanted was to cradle that sense of freedom he felt right then close to his chest; keep it forever.

"And after that, I have something in mind," Gerard went on, hinting, and Frank suddenly realized he hadn't paid attention to anything past 'Boston'. He took his moment of silence to think 'whatever' and then, propping his chin on his hand, grinned like an idiot, staring at Gerard driving—basically prompting Gerard to look at him sideways and ask worriedly, "What?"

"Nothing. I just like seeing you drive, that's all," Frank told him, his tone strangely and marginally more flirtatious than before, "I mean...I like seeing you...have the upper hand. If you know what I mean." 

Though his eyes were half-focused on the road, Gerard caught the wink Frank added at the end of his sentence.

"Frank, I swear to God," he muttered, trying not to turn into the shade of a freaking tomato.  "Are you bipolar or something? If I'm not mistaken, which I'm not, you were really fucking scared earlier. Jeez, you and your...rapid mood swings."

"What can I say, Gerard Way, you're an emotional roller-coaster ride..." Frank added, exaggerated sigh. Reasonably, Gerard held himself back from saying something. Knowing Frank, he probably intended to go on. Yet a continuation remained absent. 

"What, was that it?" Gerard wheezed incredulously. "Where's the rest of it?"

"You expected me to say that I like riding you or something, huh? Well, I was going to, but it was pretty obvious, so I tried to find something else. I'm out of ideas, to be honest," Frank admitted and lifted his one shoulder in a half shrug. Gerard reflected in his head quickly, and realized that Frank had never told him that before.

He laughed loudly. "Yeah. Right. That and...you don't top."

Acting offended, Frank huffed and scrunched up his face. "Uh, yes, I do? Especially when—huh, dude, you're such a bottom."

"No, I'm...not," Gerard defended, weakly, eyes growing big. He wasn't exactly ready for that conversation, so he regretted answering. To be candid, he'd never thought much about it before.

"Suuuure," Frank sneered and rose a brow. "You know, I can already tell this is all we gonna argue about for the rest of the drive."

At a venture, Gerard decided to change his tone. "We've got an hour an a half at least 'til we're there, so you better have some bomb-arguments. Come on, lay it all on me, Iero, be ruthless."

"Okay, you literally just told me to lay it all on you. That implies, on 'top' of you. Plus, you always yell 'fuck me' when you get frustrated."

"Hmm," Gerard mused, "fair enough. I see your point." Figuring that they'd come back to the conversation later, when he'd hopefully have some arguments, he let it go. Until then, he'd avoid bringing it up. 

Triumphant and contented, Frank sat back with his hands behind his neck. As an idea rose to his mind, he straightened his torso and looked at the backseat of the car. He bit his bottom lip before turning to glance at Gerard like a hyper toddler.

"Hey, Gerard..."

Briefly glancing at Frank wiggling his eyebrows, Gerard copied him, glimpsed at the backseat, and rightly came to a quick conclusion. "Oh no. Something about that face screams 'I've got an idea you'll love'."

"That's a good thing, though!" Frank beamed at him and Gerard gestured him to go on with his 'idea'. "You sure we need to stay at a motel? All I'm sayin' is...we've got a pretty nice backseat...We can sleep and cuddle there...and do other stuff—"

"Nuh-uh," Gerard cut him off there, "Frank, don't try to make sex in the backseat of my mom's ancient car happen. It's  _not_  going to happen. Not in this car."

Frank pouted. 

***

"Right. I'll take the bag, you follow me," Gerard instructed and shut the car door, in his head, double-checking they'd gotten everything they needed. 

Brows knitted on Frank's face as he examined the place around briefly. "Are you sure you know people here? This place seems kinda...deserted."

"Trust me, I do. I've been here a thousand times. Every summer. Well, apart from the last one, but that doesn't count. It was a complete flop. Come on, let's get inside." Gerard hurried and Frank followed him implicitly inside the building that misleadingly looked like a cheap motel from the outside. 

They followed the arrow-signs that pointed to the reception desk. Gerard didn't even need to look at the signs, and he seemed to know what he was doing, so Frank trusted him unequivocally and didn't ask. When they entered the room that nearly resembled the 70s, a man behind the reception desk jolted upright, looking surprised when he noticed them. 

"That can't be. Gerard? Is that you, man?!" the receptionist exclaimed with a burgeoning excitement, coming closer to hug Gerard brotherly, giggling.

Instantaneously, Gerard's mouth curved into a lovely smile. "Mason," he greeted back and his smile strengthened as two more people appeared, "Lindsey, Phil! Hi, how are you, guys?"

"Gerard?! Oh, jeepers creepers! Welcome back to the middle of nowhere!" a black-haired girl yelped in exultation, which Frank guessed must be 'Lindsey'. All of them looked quite older—way older than Frank and Gerard, and although Frank had no idea who they were, he kept a smile on his face throughout the entire greeting, which gradually upgraded into a group, lingering hug that he was not a part of.

"Are you out of high school so soon? I thought you graduated in July. Oh, look at you, you've grown so much!" the ginger-guy, Phil, broadcast cheerfully and broke the hug to ruffle Gerard's hair.

"Actually, I haven't...and uh, I won't," Gerard addressed in a casual tone, eyebrows furrowing when he thought again. "I think."

"Of course, that's so _Gerard_ ," Lindsey remarked certainly, then turned to look at Frank. "Is that your boyfriend then? Did you get married so fast? What did we miss?"

"Um...this is Frank!" Gerard introduced and Frank shook everybody's hands politely. "Frank, this is Lindsey, Mason, Phil. They're long-time friends."

"Nice to meet you, Frank!" Mason exclaimed cheerfully. "Oh, please tell me you guys are staying. I'll get Mara to clean out a room for you two, hold on a sec. Mara!" An elder voice echoed from the other room and Mason pranced off to hone in on the sound of somebody calling his name.

Lindsey smiled warmly at Frank and Gerard. "Mara has dinner ready. Mason will find you guys a room. Let's go eat, I wanna learn what brings you here. Did you come by car? Gee, you can drive now as well?!"

***

"I was basically, what, sixteen. And hella broke. So, I babysat everyone's child around the block, and that's how Gerard knows me," Lindsey explained and attempted to take a bite from her meal, but couldn't hold her chortle in. She blocked her mouth and laughed alone for a while. "Jesus, I don't know how he's now, but at the age of five, Gee was such a charmer. He brought me his mom's tampons as a 'birthday present' and proposed to me."

The clanging sound of cutlery against the plates echoed in the room as everyone on the table broke out into raucous laughter—well, except Gerard, who had gone entirely red, beet-like. He attempted to defend himself in vain, accentuating and repeating, "I was  _five_."

"You were  _adorable,_ " Lindsey rectified and edged further up in her seat to reach out and pinch his cheek. Pleased with his plaintive, toddler-like response, she sat back and ate from her plate, glancing at Frank and Gerard slyly through her bangs when Phil asked;

"So, how was the drive?" 

Frank seemed to be musing, so Gerard let him go ahead and say, "Fun."

"Yeah, it's because you weren't the one to deal with driver's anxiety," Gerard pointed out and rolled his eyes. Trepidation started to approach him again as he thought about tomorrow, because tomorrow, he'd have to drive _again,_ and Heaven knows if he'd be as lucky as he was earlier that day. His eyes suddenly seemed to be affixed and unmovable as he thought that, okay, maybe he wasn't that good at driving. But he was not going to crash...right? He kind of knew what he was doing.  _Right?_

Frank leaned toward him and discreetly touched his hand. "Hey, I was just kidding," he reassured him in a hushed tone, concerned.

"Driver's anxiety, huh? It'll pass. I had that when I sat for my license. Anyway, so, how long have you two been together?" Lindsey waved her hand and won Gerard's attention back.

"Uhh," Gerard said uncertainly and looked sideways at Frank, contemplating a reply, because  _really_ , were they even together? He didn't want to make Frank feel like he was deciding for him, he didn't want to force him on anything. He tried to mouth at Frank something like 'are we even...' but he doubted Frank got any of it.

Mulling over and examining Gerard's expression, Frank looked back at Lindsey, smiling, and offered a reply that later had Gerard's heart pounding wildly like a drum in his chest. "For about...four, five months, maybe?" 

He glanced back at Gerard for an affirmation and, okay, they were actually doing this, so Gerard beamed and tried to calm his horses to say, "Ohhh, umm. Yeaaah!" which came out  _way_ more jubilant than he meant it to, attracting everyone's attention.

"Man, look at you, you've grown so much, and we're still the same," Mason sighed sadly, eyebrows meeting. He shook his head and plastered a smile on his lips instead, turning his gaze to Frank. "You probably wonder where he knows me and Phil though—"

"—Phil was his next victim when he turned nine and came here with his family one summer!" Lindsey interjected and pointed at Gerard accusingly. "But don't worry, Frank, Phil's with Mason and I'm married. Nothing weird will be going on during your stay here. Promise."

A corner of Frank's mouth quirked up. "Wow, what a player." 

"Hey!" Gerard cried out, feeling accused again, "I was  _nine._ "

***

"It's...a double bed."

"Yep."

"It's... _one_  double bed."

"Gerard," Frank eyed him, his expression simply saying 'are you kidding me', "we've slept in the same bed for, like, a month. If not for longer. And it was a single bed."

To be honest, Frank had a point. But Gerard couldn't help but feel like this was different, so much different. Someone had picked a double bed out for them, he thought; they hadn't asked for it. He was nervous to the hilt, whereas Frank, on the other hand, was starkly just thankful to have a bed to sleep on. He'd quite frankly expected them to have to sleep in the car. 

Casually, he traipsed over to the bed and made himself comfortable, staring at Gerard like an aloof cat. "I promise to keep my hands off you, if that makes you feel better. For this night, at least."

Marginally calmer, Gerard sighed and put his bag down before starting his thorough observation around the motel room. "What time is it?" he asked after a while, noticing the dark sky outside.

"Does it matter?" was Frank's response—and, okay, _again;_  Frank had a point. "Are you tired?"

Gerard lied on the bed as well and let all his concerns squirm out of him when he exhaled slowly. "I don't know," he replied sincerely and curled up closer next to Frank.  When he'd finally domesticated his frantic thoughts, he smiled warmly at Frank, who turned to face him immediately. 

The most brilliant simper Gerard had ever seen appeared on Frank's face.

"I know what I said before..." Frank began, kind of bashfully, "but can I at least hold your hand? I swear, my heart's pounding like I've run five-hundred miles or something."

A giggle escaped Gerard as he reached out to Frank's hand and clutched it in his tightly. "Why, what's the matter? I'm sorry for being stupid earlier. I didn't mean it...about the bed."

"It's not that, it's...Well, we are just two teenagers alone and a hundred miles away from home, Gerard—your home, anyways. I'm sort of...antsy. Excited but antsy."

"I'm practically an adult," Gerard claimed and rested his chin on his other hand, "I hope you're not worried about the cops or anything. They won't really look for us, that shit happens only in movies. And anyway, even if they do, we'll pretend I'm your brother and we're off to see our grandma. Something like that."

"My brother?" Frank repeated, unconvinced, even though it wasn't the police he was worried about. Running away wasn't illegal, was it?

"Why? It's pretty believable, I think."

Frank had to hold himself back really hard not to blurt out what he was thinking of. He gave Gerard an evasive shrug and sprawled into a position to stare at the ceiling, his palm producing more sweat, clutched in Gerard's.

"Hey, bro," he teased, eventually, and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Fraaaank—" Sighing, because Frank had totally absorbed his idea wrong, Gerard tried to clarify, "I didn't mean it that way and you know it. Now, don't call me that, it makes me feel weird."

"Kinda incest-y, isn't it?" Frank remarked and thought again. "What's the adjective...Incestuous?" 

"Yes, it's incestuous, okay, let's drop it now. Jesus, I'm thinking about Ray and Mikey and it makes me cringe. It still grosses me out. Ugh. I can literally feel chills running down my spine," Gerard said beseechingly, his nose crinkling at the perturbing thoughts that popped up unexpectedly. 

"Okay, okay," Frank chuckled in amusement and Gerard told him off. "Fine. Shall I be the one to change the subject then? Since I spoiled it all with my filthiness, even though I just asked if the adjective for incest is incestuous..."

Gerard could still feel his stomach churn. He said with closed eyes, "Please do."

Frank smirked and rose an eyebrow. "Car sex."

"Frank!" Gerard forced his eyes open and finally, disturbing pictures of Ray and Mikey seemed to be out of his mind, thank God. But now, well, he had another problem; explain to Frank that car sex was  _not_  going to happen, even if the idea of it kinda turned him on as well. "Not a freaking chance," he drawled. "Not in my mom's car."

Feigning disappointment, Frank let out a drawn-out 'aw' and pouted. "Sex?" he suggested instead, beaming up again. 

Gerard brought his palm to his face and tried his best not to burst out laughing like Frank. "Fucking hell, Frank," his sigh came out quivery, "at least not in this hotel. Knowing that my friends sleep downstairs isn't really going to help my performance."

"Performance. Wow," Frank huffed, astonished, "I was going to say I was joking, but oh well."

"Even if you were joking...um," Gerard reconsider what he wanted to say and hesitated. "Forget it. Hey, this reminds me—wanna know what my brother's goodbye-gift was? Condoms. Mhm. Oh, why did his innocence have to die out? Oh, he's so young...and so perverted. He probably knows more about sex that I do. Actually, he probably knows everything about lesbian sex too, even though he's a guy. Where did he even find—"

"Are you sure you wanna return to that topic? It didn't work out too well sixty seconds ago. You ended up coming near to insanity from cringing," Frank noted and examined Gerard's burgeoning wince.

"You're right. I think I'll doze off for now," Gerard decided and rolled over to close his bedside lamp. Hearing that, Frank crouched and drew closer to Gerard's open arms that wrapped around him protectively and allowed him to nest there comfortably. Ignoring the fact that they hadn't changed out of their clothes, Frank buried his head in Gerard's hoodie and curled his fingers into the fabric, wanting to stay in that position for the rest of the night. 

"Night, Frank," Gerard said, voice soft with affection.

"Night, blue sunset."


	22. Chapter 22

Sunlight streamed into the room like a flamboyant guest, filtering through Frank's thin eyelids, and he blinked several times in an attempt to get adjusted to the illumination directed right at his face. He could use a few more hours of blackness, but oh well, he was awake now. 

He rolled over and stretched in the slovenly sheets, trying to dismiss the sun's rude arousal and go back to sleep. An exasperated sigh escaped him when he realized that he was fully awake. 

The motel room door creaked open and Gerard stepped into the room, smiling at the view of bleary bedhead-Frank. 

"Where'd you go?" Frank yawned and said in his morning, croaky voice that made Gerard want to pinch his cheeks because it made him sound extremely cute.

"I got us breakfast," Gerard announced in a cheery tone and pointed to a bag on the hallway cupboard. "Also, I found where our next stop will be and a motel in the area. Y'know, having to scavenge for food and sleeping in my mom's ancient car doesn't really sound pleasant. It's good to have a plan."

Words seemed to have left Frank for a second. He blinked a few times, staring at Gerard like he was Superman or something. "God," he breathed out heavily as if someone had punched him in the guts, "why didn't you wake me for help? How long have I been asleep for?"

"It's eleven thirty. I didn't want to wake you, and I got up early anyways, I didn't have anything else to do," Gerard informed him, flashing a smile again, omitting to explain how he'd watched Frank sleep for thirty minutes straight this morning. It surely had made him look like a creep, but well, he couldn't help it; Frank was so serene in his sleep. 

Frank patted the space next to him on the bed and Gerard walked over to him, unsure. It was eleven thirty, but that didn't mean that they could idle the hours away with ease. 

The route Gerard had decided was the right to follow was long, and they had things they should get on with. He'd chose not to utter a word to Frank about their destination yet; he wanted to surprise him. Perhaps he'd throw some flippant hints on the way, but he wanted to keep everything secret for now, that way, the end result would cause double the surprise.

Frank next to him rubbed his eyes and blinked blearily. He let Gerard wander in his own little world for a minute or two and then looked at him expectantly. "D'you call Mikey?"

"Huh?" Gerard budged a bit and averted his gaze. "Um, good question. I'll get to that soon."

"I'll keep mentioning it until you get round to it, you know. I won't let you 'forget' it, just like you claimed to have yesterday."

"Fine, fine. There. I'll call him now,"  Gerard gave in and groaned as he stood up lazily, scanning the room with his eyes for his cell phone. Frank's eyes bored into him consistently as he called Mikey—and Mikey didn't even pick up the phone; it was Bob, his now official, personal secretary. Apparently, Mikey had been too busy—probably throwing a party, Gerard bet. Whatever. At least he fulfilled Frank's request.

"Happy?" he raised an eyebrow, pressing the red button on the phone's keypad. "He didn't even pick up. Well, what do you know! I call him, I do as he says, and he's off throwing parties or having sex with Ray, probably, and—for God's sake, why did I just gross myself out?"

***

"Happy married life, you two!" 

"Lindsey!" 

"Oops, sorry, I mean...call in some time, will you? Good luck!"

Gerard waved goodbye once more, ignoring Lindsey's mocking quips. Frank observed him as he slid into the driver's seat and started the car; and with that, they drove off. 

The feel of the summertime wind against Frank's skin was exhilarating, so refreshing. It tousled his hair and made him feel like he was standing on the bowsprit of a ship; unafraid and free. Quite frankly, he wished he could convey some of that optimism to Gerard, who constantly had that 'driver's anxiety' switch of his on. 

"There's no need to worry, Gerard. You're doing fine, look at you," he tried to reassure with firm persistence, only getting a quick glance as a response. "I mean it! What could go wrong?"

"Don't say that, it agitates me even more," Gerard tittered and threw Frank another one of his quick glances. Frank rolled his eyes, thinking that Gerard was merely exaggerating. 

"I'll tell you what. Nothing can go wrong. You have a map right in front of you, you know where we're going, I'm right beside you and you're right beside me. No need to worry."

A sigh escaped Gerard's lips; the usual sigh he made when: he acknowledged that Frank was right, he was glad Frank was right, but still, he felt sort of defeated. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Okay. You're right. Right...Good."

"Great," Frank rectified and sat back on his seat, putting his hands behind his head. "Now...Where to, dear boyfriend?"

Gerard's mouth curved into a smile. "Never-never-land."

And surprisingly, the more time they passed in that car, the more calm Gerard grew. The more he realized that he was in total control—he was literally clenching the steering wheel. In retrospect, he wasn't as unnerved yesterday, even though it was his first time driving after a long time. And he knew that Frank, once more, had been right; there was no need to worry. 

He drew in an invigorating breath and allowed his head to tilt slightly backward, barely touch the leather headrest. He told himself that everything was okay. 

And everything was okay. 

An hour passed and Frank had already tossed around the question "Are we there yet?" a hundred times. Gerard continued to ignore him, focusing on taking the right turns and ways. Frank did not appreciate that; they were an hour in the car, an hour that felt perpetual. Maybe Gerard couldn't understand because he'd been too busy driving cautiously, but Frank was  _dying_  to get out of the car and move his legs, otherwise, he'd go entirely numb.

"Gerard!" he groaned and tried again, in vain, "are we there yet?" He folded his arms across his chest at Gerard's unhelpful absence of response. He was sort of  _dying_  to know where the hell they were, since he couldn't come close to guessing. From what he could see, he could assume that they were getting closer to an urban-scene, leaving farms and barns behind. Although, driving onward, a river was still visible in the vicinity—partially the reason why Frank was still suspicious. 

"Okay—" He perked up at Gerard's sudden change of heart, deciding to speak. "We're gonna stop there—see, that's hopefully the motel. Now, if I'm not mistaken, we are getting closer to Mansfield," Gerard reported and tilted his head slightly to the side to look left and make a turn. Disappointment was prevalent on Frank's face.

"Wish I knew where that is," he scoffed and rolled his eyes, brushing the subject off in devoid of interest. Dullness dissipated from his face when he noticed that Gerard was indeed pulling off. 

Their heads wobbled slightly when the car stopped abruptly— _still shit at parking,_  Gerard thought to himself.

"Okay, I think we—"

As an incoming call put him off his stroke, Frank rightly suggested that he should go get a room for them and leave Gerard to call Mikey back. Agreeing, Gerard handed him some money and whipped his cell phone out to call his brother. His brother who, mind you, hadn't answered the phone earlier this morning and left Bob to do it. His brother who, most likely, was having the time of his life alone with Ray in the house.

To Mikey's instant response, Gerard was quite amazed. But at what he said first, Gerard wasn't surprised. Mikey reminded him of their parents' arrival which was in a week, and refreshed Gerard's memory a bit. It made him realize that July was closer than he had thought. Thankfully, Mikey reassured him that no one had noticed their absence particularly, apart from Brendon Urie, who was apparently throwing another party. 

A party, which Gerard was most definitely not going to attend. Oh, what a shame. He didn't have the fortunate stroke of serendipity to be part of that. No, he was, unfortunately running away with his boyfriend. He was so crashed, because he  _totally_  hankered to be there with Brendon asshole Urie.

 _"Man...Mom's gonna go nuts when she comes back. Dude,"_  Mikey drew out his last word until he was out of breath. Gerard heard him sigh.  _"I know I said I'll cover up for you, and I will, but fuck, she's probably gonna kill me and Ray when we tell her."_

Gerard sighed. "And she's gonna skin me when I get back, so..."

 _"Definitely. But well, here's where our long-gone father comes in, dear brother. That will be a chance to try him out."_ Mikey laughed at something Ray said, and then, made sounds when something cropped up in his memory.  _"Ohh, I totally forgot. Um. What should I tell them if they ask me where you are?"_

Gerard automatically assumed his brother was referring to their parents. "Tell them I'm going to Grandma's. If Mom—"

" _No, I mean...if someone else asks where you are...like, someone I don't know,_ " Mikey cut him off and Gerard squinted. Did he really need an answer to that?

"Don't...? Tell them I don't live there anymore? Jeez, man, would you seriously tell a hired killer where to find me? If you don't know them...tell them to kindly fuck off. If you don't know them, I probably don't either." From the corner of his eyes, Gerard caught Frank in sight walking toward him, so he figured it was time to end the call. 

 _"Kay, fine. Be careful. And tell Frank we said hi,"_  Mikey said, taking a deep breath and letting it all out in one heavy sigh.  _"Love you. Bye."_  Gerard echoed 'I love you' and hang up. 

Frank flounced over to him with a set of keys dangling between his index and his thumb, looking sort of triumphant. Gerard leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek—he deserved it. He got their bag out of the car and followed Frank up the stairs of the building and into their room.

It didn't surprise Gerard that their room had, similarly, one double bed. He paid no mind to it. If he were to focus on that, he'd be quite flattered, because this was not Lindsey, Mason, nor Phil choosing it. No. Frank had gone down to the receptionist and asked for one room with  _one_  double bed.

"So," Frank began when Gerard had put down their bag, "what now?"

Gerard's eyes roved around. After a moment's reflection, he said, "Find a gas station to fill up the car, eat, wander around aimlessly...Don't worry, we'll move further tomorrow morning. For now, I think I need to brace myself. We'll be needing to drive down a highway. It's the least complex way to get to...well, you'll see."

Automatically, Frank's mouth twitched into a smile. Although Gerard looked like a panicky deer, the fact that he already had everything planned-out in his head made him feel safe. He walked up to him and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his smile in Gerard's chest. 

Gerard felt his world melt away a little and squeezed back, later allowed himself to fall behind with his back on the bed, and hold Frank there in his arms.

***

In the middle of the sunny afternoon, Gerard and Frank had somehow managed to get to the river by 'walking around aimlessly' after their late meal. Although Frank was kind of pushing it. He really enthused over that river and Gerard didn't really get why. 

Of course, Frank didn't want to explain it to him; he thought it was kind of stupid anyway. The river was sort of like a symbol. A symbol of how far they'd come.

It wasn't even a river, Frank was pretty sure it sized as a creek, but whatever. They crouched down next to each other and Frank's attention got lost in the turbid, swift flowing water. It wended its way onward, seemingly endless, tireless, with its fluid grace.

Gerard was too busy examining the different routes on the map, jotting things down once in a while—looking flummoxed. There were so many routes, it made him wonder why. Or perhaps there weren't, after all, and he was just reading it all wrong. And with that in mind, he began from the top. He could picture himself doing this all night when Frank was asleep.

Worn out and disheartened after a while, he put his pen and notes down. He gazed dreamily at Frank drinking from the bottle of beer they'd bought earlier, and sighed. Frank was lost in gazing at the eddies that curled and vanished almost immediately in the water, and likewise, Gerard was lost in gazing at Frank.

He was given away, eventually.

Looking sideways at him, Frank's lips slowly curved into a smile.

"You're really pretty," Gerard explained and rested his chin on his palm. Frank giggled and shook his head fondly, dropping his gaze to the ground. Suddenly, a dazy idea struck him. His hand reached out and grabbed the now-empty bottle, and his eyes were fixed on it, as though he had an artifact in his hands. Finally, he chuckled. Not that that shook Gerard any, he carried on with that stare of his, incessantly and carelessly. 

He glanced at Gerard's notepad and pen, the smile flickering back onto his face. "Can you rip a page out of it, please?" he asked and turned the bottle in his hands to check if it was completely empty. Gerard frowned.

"Sure..." he replied slowly, removing his hand from his chin to flip to a new page in his notebook and do as Frank asked him to. "But why?"

The smile slyly turned into a smirk that lurked around the corners of Frank's mouth. He accepted the piece of paper and scribbled down something onto it with Gerard's pen. It was too late when Frank had enunciated "You'll see," because Gerard had already got the gist. He observed as Frank rolled up the piece of paper as tightly as possible and dropped it into the bottle. 

"I hate to burst your bubble, but I think messages in a bottle...you're supposed to throw them in the ocean, Frankie," Gerard informed him, to no avail. Frank didn't say anything; he intently watched the edges of the paper curl up as they got soaked in the few droplets of remaining liquid in the bottle. He looked so absorbed in that activity, Gerard began getting worried. "Frank...?"

"Whatever. I just want to let the world know something." Frank shrugged his shoulders and stared triumphantly at the bottle in his hands. Dissatisfaction flashed to the surface of his expression when he realized that he couldn't close the bottle; he made an annoyed noise.

Gerard took the bottle from Frank's hands and tacitly offered a solution, lodging a piece of scrunched up paper on top of it. Once he was assured it was fixed well enough, he handed it back to Frank, who, hunching forward, placed it carefully in the river and let go of it to begin its journey.

"Wait! But I didn't get to see what you wrote!" Gerard protested when Frank's hands let go of the bottle. His eyes followed it regretfully, up to the point where it got stuck between two thick, rude branches on the riverside. 

"Well," Frank huffed and looked at Gerard, sort of downhearted, "you and the rest of the world, it seems."

Pressing his lips together, Gerard glanced at Frank and then at the bottle again; an idea making its way and surfacing in his mind. He proposed, "If I go and get it...will you let me see what you wrote?"

"Seriously? You wanna go all the way there?" Frank narrowed his eyes at him. Gerard nodded vehemently. "Sure. Fine. It wasn't even—it was kind of stupid. But sure, go on." Frank laughed as he watched Gerard saunter off. 

Gerard stood on the riverside, stopped to contemplate for a moment, and then couched down amid some soggy leaves. He grasped a stick from the ground—slightly regretting it, feeling the adhesive texture—and reached out to steer the bottle toward his direction. He peered through his bangs at Frank, who still stared at him curiously, and once he was able to, snatched the bottle out of the water.

He hunkered down and struggled to remove the scrunched up paper, turning the bottle upside down.

Frank smiled in the distance once Gerard finally got it out. It was somewhat soaked but still readable.

It read in smudged blue-ink,  _'Gerard is my blue sunset_ _\- Frank'._

Gerard's tumultuous thudding heart felt like it was going to explode. A warm feeling, a sense of affection clutched him; his chest constricted. It was when he looked up to Frank that his cheeks turned into a shade of pink. Frank made him feel special in a way nobody ever had before.

"I can't help but be my cheesy self!" Frank shouted, his whole face lit up.

Gerard could feel his cheeks burning. He chuckled back and told Frank, "You're cute!"

Twinkling with delight, Frank's eyes were fixed on Gerard and it was as if they were controlling his body, leading him toward Gerard. Gerard stood up and ran a few steps closer to him.

Lips hovered inches away as they rested their foreheads against each others'.

And their lips crushed together. 

And that was, perhaps, the slowest and sweetest kiss Gerard ever had had in his life.

Eventually, he wrapped an arm around Frank's shoulders and slightly pulled apart. He felt his lips brush Frank's and lusted after the moment he'd be able to kiss them again. 

"Frank," he latched onto the chance and whispered, prolonging each letter, as if he wanted to savor the moment, make it last. He clasped his hands on either side of Frank's face and smiled. "I love you."

"Who's being cheesy now?" Frank looked down, hiding a coy smile.

"Eh, guess that makes us even," Gerard huffed and rolled his eyes. His heart was fluttering insanely, probably like, going ten thousand miles a minute. "I think my heart might just explode right now. You're unbelievably—what? Oh, shut up," he huffed, rolling his eyes again when Frank made that face of 'you're doing it again' as if this was some kind of contest. 

Frank urged and brushed his index finger against Gerard's lips when he noticed that he was about to lean forward and kiss him, "Before you  _make_  me shut up...I love you too."

"So fucking cheesy."

"Sue me," Frank got to say before their lips met again.


	23. Chapter 23

Gerard woke up. He knew it was early when he realized there was no light struggling to get past the motel room's blinds this time. Something had disturbed his sleep, he knew it, but if it hadn't been external, morning light, then what was it?

Tossing and turning, stretching and yawning; after repeating all of these activities at least twice, he then heard his cell phone ringing, annoyingly in the early morning. 

He glanced at the screen and then at the closed bathroom door. Belatedly, he noticed the sound of water running; Frank was probably taking a shower. 

He glanced back at the screen. The number was blocked, and instead, the word 'Anonymous' appeared in capital letters, which was sketchy enough. A fair reason for Gerard not to pick up the phone. Mikey, Ray, nor Bob would ever call him from a private number, and anyone else he didn't want to speak to, anyways. 

But he didn't hang up; he waited for the caller to do so. His eyes stayed affixed to the screen for a while and nobody seemed to call again after that.  _Wrong number_ , he assumed and internally shrugged.

He lolled in bed for another twenty minutes or so, waiting for Frank to come out but darn, it was taking him long. 

Okay. Too long.

Way too long. It was taking him an eternity. 

Damn. Who showers for twenty minutes straight?

Reasonably, Gerard got bored waiting around and, eventually, rolled out of bed. He wandered around the room aimlessly, too lazy to even care that he was only wearing his boxers and a t-shirt. After a while, the sound of water ceased, but Frank didn't get out. Gerard waited, drank some water, meandered around some more, texted Mikey, but still, Frank hadn't gotten out. 

Finally, impatient, he traipsed over to the door and knocked quickly twice before opening it. 

When he was assured that Frank was still alive, he mumbled an apology and shut the door. He stayed frowning at the closed door for several seconds, trying to call to his mind what he'd seen. Frank was in his boxers, his hair was wet as if he'd just gotten out of the shower. He had been standing in front of a mirror, his face all scrunched up, and his left hand on his shoulder—

Gerard opened the door, this time, without knocking and asked straightforwardly, "Are you okay?"

Frank lifted his gaze to look at him, the wince dissipating from his pale face. "Yeah," he replied shortly and Gerard walked over to him, trying to understand what was going on, and why exactly Frank was pressing his hands against his right shoulder. At this point, Gerard had gotten the gist, so he placed his hand on Frank's, requesting his permission. 

"Let me see," he said and eyed him seriously. 

Frank looked rather scared. "Um. Yeah. I-" he removed his hands hesitantly, and Gerard examined the raw cut there, red around the edges. "I-I think it's infected," Frank stammered, voice unsure. 

"Yeah. We'll clean it up, it's gonna be okay. Hold on a sec," Gerard decided, holding himself back from asking any questions, and walked out of the bathroom to look for a clean towel to dampen. Once he found one and held it under the water, he called for Frank to sit on the bed instead. "Uh, it's gonna sting a little."

Frank didn't speak. Tacitly, he did so, despite feeling vulnerable in just his boxers and wanting to change into his clothes. Gerard walked over to him and, cautiously, pressed the dampened towel onto the red sore, grotesque against Frank's ghostly-pale skin. Grimacing as Gerard rubbed, Frank struggled not to yelp out in the first surges of pain, but they thankfully began to ebb after a while.

"It itches," he shuddered, feeling a wave of repulsion wash over him. Gerard perked up his head and stared at him apologetically. He patted the cut a few more times and put the towel aside, sighing. 

"I know. But it's gonna be okay now. I'll ask the reception downstairs for a band-aid." A weak smile made its way on his lips, in hope to reassure Frank, somehow. He made his attempt to leave, but Frank held him back by the arm and pulled a dissenting face.

"It's fine. I don't need a band-aid. Don't leave."

"Okay." Gerard smiled again and leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss somewhere between Frank's collar bones. "Better?" he asked, the smile growing more prominent on his lips.

Frank laughed faintly and cupped the side of Gerard's face, wanting to lean in and kiss him—but something was keeping him back. Little did he know, Gerard had woken up in high spirits, inexplicably, and although he'd decided to suppress it at the beginning, now he was kind of breaking loose. 

He crouched down and went on kissing Frank's chest, taking his time once in a while to suck on various spots. Frank let out a quivery breath, on one hand, confounded and hesitant, but at the same time he was enjoying it too much to say anything. 

His heartbeat sped up as Gerard began moving down. He drew his lower lip between his teeth, sucking in another breath sharply. 

Moving up again to kiss his lips, Gerard threaded a hand through Frank's hair. He stopped when he made out the troubled look on Frank's face, looking almost like he didn't want this. As much as he didn't want to, he pulled away and looked at Frank worriedly.

"Is this okay?" he quavered, inquiring doubtfully. "D-do you want me to stop?"

"I—" Frank paused when he realized that he didn't know how to express his thoughts. He took a moment to collect his mind, but Gerard took that silence as a negative hint, and quickly felt frustrated with himself. 

He began apologizing before Frank even had the time to morph his thoughts into words. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to push you or anything."

"Oh God, are you kidding, that's not what I mean," Frank cut him off before he had the time to say anything worse. "Fuck, Gerard. Most of the time, I feel like  _I'm_  pushing you."

"Oh..." Gerard felt relieved and instantaneously, relief evaporated into confusion. "Why would you even think that? You're not—not at all."

"But...you keep—I mean, you kind of freaked out when you found out that we would be sleeping on a double bed together the other day."

Gerard had to take a moment to recall the time Frank was referring to. He shook his head wildly. "Christ, Frank, I told you I was being stupid. It wasn't you, it was just that my friends—it doesn't matter. I was just overthinking."

"But," Frank reconsidered and sighed, "you don't think I'm pushing you or anything?"

"God, no." Gerard huffed out an incredulous laugh. "You should've told me earlier if it was bugging you—but I don't understand why it would be bothering you. I love you. I think I did make it pretty clear yesterday, didn't I? If I ever felt like you were pushing me, I'd tell you."

"You sure?" Frank asked timidly and Gerard rolled his eyes. "You can't take it back later. Are you one  _hundred_  percent sure?"

"Yes, Frank, I'm one hundred percent sure," Gerard laughed softly and moved closer to Frank again. "Let's go back to the thing we were doing now?"

Instead of replying, Frank smiled and twitched forward to hug Gerard. He laid him back on the bed, straddling him and pinning him down, and kissed him. Harsh and passionately. Gerard didn't protest about how the tables had turned; he enjoyed this more, if he was being honest. He wrapped an arm around Frank's waist and pulled him closer as Frank took his time kissing Gerard's neck, letting him cherish the tender brush of lips and the hot breath on his neck.

And when their lips crashed together again, Frank smirked into the kiss and moved his knee between Gerard's thighs, budging slightly to grind his crotch down onto Gerard's—his eagerness was kind of evident at this point. 

Gerard inhaled sharply, and seemed to only then realize where this was going, considering the fact that he was close to being semi-hard, and after a while, he was ascertained. Not that he was scared or anything, no, but the shaky breath he let out kind of gave his nerves away. 

He felt Frank hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, but then he stopped and broke the kiss to look at Gerard. 

"You can tell me to stop if you want," Frank told him, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, "you know that, right? Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't stop, don't stop," Gerard murmured, digging his fingernails into the small of Frank's back and pulling him closer. He made a half whining noise in the back of his throat when Frank laughed at him. "Please?"

Frank smirked and leaned in, his cheek brushing against Gerard's. "Take your shirt off," he half-whispered, and okay, that definitely struck a nerve within Gerard.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and Frank looked at him, satisfied, running his hands all over Gerard's exposed, bare chest. He moved downwards and ran his tongue just above Gerard's bellybutton, which had Gerard thinking 'did he just lick me?' and 'oh my God, that was hot' simultaneously.

Tugging at the fabric of his boxers, Frank glanced up at him, waiting for an affirmative nod, and pulled them slowly all the way down to the ankles. He tossed them off to the side, and that was when Gerard's mind got all pumped up with thoughts, feeling vulnerable, because, holy fuck, he was  _completely_  naked. But then again, what he felt was definite satisfaction. Eventually, it dawned on him that it was just his huge-virgin-self stressing out trivially, but honestly, he couldn't help it. Frank had some experience—hence his confidence and smoothness. Whereas Gerard had none.

"Relax," Frank said when Gerard tensed up and held a breath in his chest. "We can go slower if you want."

"No, i-it's okay." Gerard looked at him and threaded his fingers into Frank's hair. And he was there again, shifting back into his former attitude. He had no experience—so what? Fuck it.

"It's gonna feel good, I promise."

Frank moved himself even farther down between Gerard's thighs, his hand moving downward to reach Gerard's cock. He moved his mouth closer over the head and swirled his tongue around the tip a bit before taking over with his hand.

Gerard's breathing turned heavy and he clung onto Frank as he repeated the action multiple times. He closed his eyes and  _just_ —thanked  _God_  for Frank's touch. Christ, this was so much different than masturbation. So much better.

"Fuck—don't stop," he mewled in a needy way, and proceeded to let out incoherent words, pulling Frank's hair again, trying to make him move up to kiss him.

Smiling lopsidedly, Frank gave in to Gerard's request and moved up slowly, leaving wet kiss behind in his wake, moving his fist up and down faster.

Gerard's beat accelerated when he felt Frank's lips against his own again, and let himself melt into the moment. He inhaled sharply and tangled his tongue with Frank's, intensifying the kiss. Then, as desperate as he was, he pushed up against Frank's hand, prompting him to speed up his movement. 

Sooner than he had thought, he was coming all over Frank's hand, moaning a mixture of curse words. He arched his neck and Frank pulled away, smirking in amusement as he watched Gerard's expression fascinatingly changing.

Gerard crashed their wet mouths together again. Breathless and dazed after the kiss, he figured it was only right to let Frank know that, "You were right. That was amazing. You are amazing."

"Yeah?" Frank laughed, resting his forehead against Gerard's.

"Oh, yeah," Gerard breathed. He closed his eyes, striving to fathom how good that had felt. "I'll return the favor."

***

After that morning's events, Gerard wrongly came to the instant conjecture, that everything would be awkward from then and on. A completely senseless, wrong supposition, since not only did Frank feel finally relieved, having been assured by Gerard that he was not at all being oppressive, but he also didn't act any differently. And anyway, they hadn't done anything wrong—again, Gerard realized, it was just his insecure side overthinking.   

It was just when they got in the car that Gerard heard his cell phone buzz and saw one new message blink onto the screen. 

 _'Don't think you're so clever,'_  it read and Gerard felt his heart pounding, an evil foreboding engulfing him. It was probably right to assume that whoever had called earlier that morning hadn't called by mistake.

Frank got in the car and Gerard tossed his cell phone aside. It wasn't the time to worry about that. Not yet, anyways. 

They'd checked out of the motel by twelve o'clock and prepared to take off. Now, if Gerard's reckoning was correct, they had two hours ahead until they'd reach their destination, which, of course, he didn't mention to Frank. He didn't want to ruin the surprise. 

However, it was only then when it dawned on Gerard that he had to drive on a highway full of cars, and God, he didn't want to do this. No. Not at all. 

"Gerard, you're gonna be fine. I trust you." Frank reached out to tip Gerard's chin up, making effort to be reassuring, but obviously not achieving much. "It's gonna be just like city driving. You just need to pretend—"

"No, Frank, that's gonna get us both killed, if I pretend it's just us and ignore the other cars," Gerard claimed and sighed. He started the car and internally shrugged. "You know what? Whatever. The only issue is the car. I really hope this thing doesn't die on us halfway."

"Where are we going?"

An answer remained absent, needless to say. Gerard was determined, and no, he definitely wasn't going to give in to temptation and cajolery, even when Frank started playing around with his hair.

"Frank, I'm driving. We're going to die if you keep doing that,"  he announced in a casual tone when Frank slipped a hand under his shirt and began to stroke his back teasingly, trying to persuade him somehow. 

Taken aback by Gerard's dramatic delivery, Frank snatched his hand back. _Well, that's one way to put it,_ he thought.

He huffed and sat back on his seat, looking around for something to occupy himself with. A pair of sunglasses were his only discovery. How he hadn't noticed that pair of sunglasses that lay right in front of him up until then, he didn't know. He grabbed them and wore them on the end of his nose, folding his arms and keeping his mouth shut, not wanting to disturb Gerard's driving. He didn't pay much attention to the road; now and then he shut his eyes, wondering if he should take a nap. 

Gerard, on the other hand, was nervous to the hilt. He had estimated the duration of the trip. He'd also estimated how long it'd take them until they were on the freeway, but his estimations were either inaccurate, or he had taken the wrong turn somewhere, and he really fretted the latter. 

Not to mention, he felt unduly guilty, regarding this morning's ominous events. No, not the hand job—the hand job was amazing. Period. The threatening message he received just before they'd taken off, however...

He bit his lip, thinking of mentioning it to Frank. He didn't want to worry him, everything was going perfectly fine up until then.

Inadvertently, he cursed under his breath, which Frank heard and latched onto to speak, since he couldn't really find anything else to do. 

"What's the matter?"

This time, Gerard didn't want the silence. He chose to respond to Frank. Hell, thirty minutes had passed and they should be there by then. "We should be there by now. The highway, I mean. Ugh. I must've miscalculated. God, I hope I've  _only_  miscalculated. Can you get the map for me, please?"

Finally having something to do, Frank hunched over and fumbled in the clutter down to his feet. Somewhere, among the empty water bottles and pieces of crumpled paper, he caught hold of the map, unfolded it, and laid it out in front of Gerard. 

Gerard glanced at it and made a grunting noise, eyes roving briefly around in hope for some enlightenment.

"It seems like we're on the right track. I don't understand," he told Frank informatively. Frank gave him a half shrug and curled his lip. "Should I just...keep driving?"

"Guess so," Frank replied and relaxed on his seat, crossing his arms again. Gerard glanced at him worriedly.

"You're...oh, Frank, you're not mad at me, are you?" he asked, exhaling heavily, because okay, having zero clue as to what was up with the map and directions, he could manage—but Frank being mad at him, he couldn't bear. Especially right then.

Brows snapped together on Frank's face as he turned to look at Gerard. He unfolded his arms and took off the sunglasses, sighing. "Why the hell would I be mad at you, Gerard? I just don't wanna bother you, you seem preoccupied."

"Yeah, that's because I don't want to get us completely lost. It's horrifying enough to think about," Gerard admitted after a moment's reflection. Rolling his eyes, Frank sighed exaggeratedly, eventually altering the sigh into a laugh, which sounded sort of wicked from Gerard's perspective, but all it really was was blithe.

"So what?" Frank said in a dry tone. "So what if we get lost?"

Gerard didn't reply to that. He copied Frank's sigh, gradually realizing that, even if things went downhill, it would only be eating up some their time and nothing more. Even if Gerard never got to surprise Frank the way he wanted to, he'd still have Frank. No one could take him from his side—well, except Frank left himself.

"See?" Frank huffed and lifted an eyebrow. "Say we do get lost, we can still do whatever the fuck we want. It's just you and me, no one can tell us what to do now. Haven't you realized that yet?"

"No, but, now that you're mentioning it...it's kind of inspiriting," Gerard admitted, eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. "Makes me wanna keep driving this damn thing."

"That's the spirit," Frank encouraged and reached with his hand to touch Gerard's thigh. His eyes examined the place around them and fell upon a barely distinguishable sign at the right side of the roadway, just beyond the intersection. "Maybe, um, turn around though. That's a dead end right there."

"But—" Gerard narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward to check the map. "It's not  _on_ here."

Frank shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know, but the place around them seemed kind of deserted and ominous. He didn't want to be there for long. "Maybe the sign is new or temporary," he assumed and suggested to turn around anyway.

For a good twenty minutes, the two of them relished the silence and the roaring wind as they drove on past a lone country road. The asphalt got from narrow to wide, but they seemed to be the only car around. Ugly buildings ceased to be in sight. 

Everything about that lone country road was beautiful to a refreshing level—if only it had been off one of those postcards Gerard's mother sent him. From his own, unaccustomed eye, countryside beckoning was frightening. Thank God for Frank singing 'My Sharona' right beside him. If Gerard were to be alone in that situation, he'd probably have a panic attack right on the spot.

He gulped when the car made a menacing, unpleasant noise. "Frank..."

Frank went on singing casually, making Gerard wonder and wish he had his stoicism and carelessness right then. "Sorry, what?" 

"Just talk to me," Gerard heaved a sigh to restrain himself. He didn't want to admit that he was starting to freak out. If Frank was talking to him, he wouldn't be having a mental breakdown right then. 

Frank mulled over for a moment, resting his arm on the open window. "Do you ever just forget how old you are?"

Gerard frowned. Considering the fact that this was the most alive he'd ever felt in his whole life, he could in utter certainty, "No."

"Oh, well. It was worth asking. I do," Frank mumbled and didn't seem to intend to say anything else. Gerard felt his stomach churn when the car made another whiny sound. His chest constricted, it felt like the oxygen was meager to keep his breathing normal. If his hands weren't clutched around the steering wheel, they'd probably be shaking. 

He was about to beg Frank to say something, utter anything, when Frank suddenly spoke. 

"Do you actually love me?" he inquired in a level tone, countenance hard to make out. "Like, did you mean it when you said it?"

"Yes," Gerard replied immediately, meaning it. He didn't even think about why Frank was asking him this, for if he wanted the truth, he could have the truth. 

"Tell me," Frank ordered and moved his head to eye Gerard, his eyes glinting with an urgency—as if it was a matter of life and death—that would be concerning if Gerard hadn't seen it before. 

"I can't," he said eventually, "I can only show you."

Frank's eyebrows drew together as he tilted his head to the side, trying to understand. "Then show me," he said promptly, at this point, unduly curious.

While Gerard was examining Frank's face, he almost forgot that he was still driving and flicked his gaze on the road again. He cleared his throat and smiled at himself, thoughts swiftly running past in his mind.

"I can't," he said again, the smile on his face appearing prominently as he reminded Frank, "I'm driving."

The more Frank remained frozen, staring at Gerard, the more his frown strengthened. He would plow on to learn what Gerard had exactly meant by what he'd said, but a grunting noise the car made demolished his plans. 

"Fuck!" Gerard cried out when pressing down fully with his foot on the accelerator was like flogging a dead horse; more noises escaped the car as it stopped moving, little by little. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!  _No_. This can't be happening—"

"What's wrong?" 

"Can't you see—the car just stopped moving, Frank," Gerard snapped, and Frank couldn't help but flinch at his tone. Gerard sighed heavily, trying to think of something, but before anything, thinking that he should apologize. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry—I just. I don't want this to end."

Frank flicked his gaze away, musing. The atmosphere in the car was, if anything, confining. Too confining to let him think. Gerard just remained frozen there, resting his forehead on his palm. He made a few futile attempts to start the car, but, as mentioned, _futile_.

"Then it's not going to," Frank stated eventually, hunching his shoulders. The only thing Gerard found himself able to do was scoff; scoff at Frank's nonchalance. Their car had literally just given up on life—how could Frank be so calm?

"Where are you going?" Gerard asked with a burgeoning frown. He got out of the car when he saw Frank do so too and observed him looking around. He asked again, "Frank, what are you doing?"

"'M trying to think," he responded, moving his hand above his narrowed eyes. Gerard felt like his head was burning, and the sun wasn't helping. And God, the area around them seemed deserted; no living soul was around to be seen. Whatever badlands, wasteland they were in, Gerard didn't know how he'd managed to go that astray. He swore he was starting to hyperventilate. "Gerard, calm down, we can't be that far off. I can see a sign—over there. Come on, get the bag and let's walk that way."

Even if Frank was trying to put some sense back into Gerard, well, what he was proposing was too simplistic. As  _if_ a sign could enlighten them or something. Even if they knew where the hell they were, they didn't have a car anymore. Gerard had concluded and submitted to doom; if Satan was willing to pop up anytime with a contract, Gerard would gladly sell his soul for a car.

"Frank,  _where_?"

"That way!" Frank pointed unhelpfully toward the sky. "Now, come on."

Gerard groaned. "Frank, you're pointing toward the sun."

"I'm aware," Frank smiled wildly, and still, fuck, how was he keeping so calm? He whipped around and trod over to the car trunk to get the bags himself, since Gerard didn't seem to be moving all that much. He tossed Gerard two filled water bottles and nodded. "Come on, pretty boy. To the sun."

"Oh, okay," Gerard began in a sarcastic tone and folded his arms, "so, we're literally following the sun. Okay. Good to know."

"Exactly," Frank replied enthusiastically and began to walk away from the car, gesturing Gerard to follow. 


	24. Chapter 24

"We're out of our minds. We're chasing the sun."

Frank laughed, pushing hair away from his face as they trod onward. "Kinda poetic, isn't it? I like it."

"Frank, that sign tells us nothing," Gerard groaned. Gerard was baking. Gerard was going to  _implode_. The sun was so irritatingly hot—he wished the skies would open and pour down. He swore he would take that over the sweltering heat any time without any complaints. 

"Jeez, Gerard—"

"Let's just walk back to the car," he proposed injudiciously, feeling like he could faint. Frank stopped walking and eyed him disbelievingly. 

"How is that a better plan?!" 

Gerard shrugged. He didn't know, so he changed the subject. "I honestly don't understand how you're keeping so calm. We don't have a car anymore. Not that I care about the car or anything—my mom is gonna be more than delighted to know she's finally lost that piece of junk. But we can't move fast and we have to carry our things on our backs."

"Not for long, you impatient oaf. Let me speak or just have a look around before you speak," Frank remarked in low savagery and waved his hand. Gerard blinked dumbly but did as Frank instructed him to. "Go on."

"I don't see anything," he gave up eventually. His nerves couldn't handle much with that scorching heat. Right then, his focus range was marginal; he could hardly bring his feet to move. 

"You sure?" Frank tried again, rolling his eyes at Gerard's impatience.

Gerard figured out that Frank wasn't going to give up, not ever, unless he submitted to his wish. With a heavy heart, he strove and tried to find whatever Frank wanted him to emphasize on. He narrowed his eyes and focused between land and sun in the horizon. 

Finally, he understood why they were heading in that direction. God, Gerard was freaking inattentive and dumb. 

"Is that a...is that a house?"

"No, it's a fucking oasis, Gerard. I'm ushering you into a demon's lair. Yes, of course, it's a building." Frank sighed and switched back into his normal tone. "Now, to return to your statement: I'm devastated that we've crossed car sex out of our list, but we should really move on."

Unlike the previous relentless ten minutes of walking they'd done, the next transpired to be less torturous. Though Gerard still struggled to stand on his feet, he concealed it with a face of determination. It was a response to the ruthlessness of the sun, like 'take that, sun, I can endure'. Seriously. Fuck the sun. 

The disappointment of not encountering what they'd expected wasn't as ruinous. As it turned out, the building was some sort of desolated, nasty casino-cabaret, but luck manifested that it was still on their side, since another building, not as far-off, was visible. And that building didn't look as repellent as the other one, so their expectations were higher.

Walking onward, Gerard could eventually discern a sign that read 'DINER'. Thank God, he thought, finally. 

"You reckon we should ask something?" Frank halted before opening the door. 

Gerard raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Uh, yes? Wasn't that the plan to begin with?"

From the moment Frank pushed the door open, Gerard sensed the exhilarating atmosphere; a light breeze put him at ease. The diner had an air conditioner. Holy smokes, air conditioners. Gerard wanted to kiss the person that thought of air conditioners. 

The diner didn't seem to be that full, despite it being late noon, but then again, who the fuck came up with the idea to start a business in a place like that? That business would indubitably totter on the edge of a cliff. 

An old woman was serving pancakes to a couple across the room, and a burly old man was cleaning a stainless counter with a cloth. Frank glanced quickly at Gerard and marched forward, winning the old man's attention. 

"G'day. How may I help you?" the man said, offering a wrinkly smile and putting his work aside. Frank nodded at Gerard to step up.

"Hello, um, we seemed to be lost. Our car broke down about a mile away. Do you know if it's possible to get a taxi from here or...?" Gerard asked, making incomprehensible hand gestures instead of finishing his sentence. 

"A taxi? Highly unlikely, boys. But I could offer a ride. Where d'you wanna go?" The old man placed the cloth under a counter and rubbed his hands together, waiting for an answer. Gerard turned to look at Frank with a demonstrative smile and when Frank eventually got the gist, he groaned and turned away, closing his ears. With that, Gerard informed the elder man of their destination, but the look on the man's face displayed complete and utter confusion. "Why, son, it seems like you've taken the wrong turn somewhere. You're heading in the complete opposite direction. That's almost three hours away."

"Oh," Gerard spoke in a hushed tone, as if he was getting told off. He wasn't going to ask of the man to drive for them for three hours, but if they could get to a certain point that concurred with the map—unlike this nonexistent place they were at right then—they could continue by themselves, use public transport or whatever. "How far is the nearest train station?"

"Not far, not far," the man repeated and seemed skeptical, scratching his chin. "Let me call my daughter, she's always on the move—knows the road better than me. Stacy, c'mere, doll."

Gerard finally told Frank that he could come back, and he rolled his eyes in response but did so, nevertheless. A blonde girl trudged out of what seemed to be the kitchen. She had to be in her early twenties, but her skin seemed baby-soft, which made you reconsider her age. Her cheeks were a shade peach, but she wasn't wearing any makeup—she literally looked like a doll. 

"How far is the nearest train station, love?"

The girl looked up, thinking. "An hour approximately, Daddy."

The elder man glanced back at Gerard, waiting for his word, and responsibly, Gerard informed him that he was willing to pay. 

"Alright. Doll, you think you can take'em there?"

"Sure thing. Lemme get the keys to the car, I'll be right back," the girl announced and flounced out of the room.

The man looked at his daughter walking off, almost wistfully, Gerard noticed. 

"A treasure she is, that girl. She is my youngest. I'll be losing her in a week," he said and sighed sadly. He didn't particularly strike Gerard as an emotional man, he looked too tough, but he did go on blabbering. From what Gerard had understood, his daughter was getting married and he'd miss her. "Can't wait to see her walk down the aisle with her man, though. He's an accountant—a very noble, young man. But look at her. Ah, they grow up so fast, but they look the same from your eyes. How old are you, boys? I betcha look younger."

Gerard was too lost in the man's talking about his daughter, that he almost didn't pay attention to the following question. "Uh—we, um...Nineteen," he lied, seizing the chance he got, since they apparently 'looked younger'. The elder man frowned and asked him what they were doing all by themselves. "Visiting my grandparents. We'd thought we'd surprise them, but we kind of got lost."

"Oh. Well, I wish you the best of luck. Always visit them, I bet they miss you terribly. I, oh—boys, if you'll excuse me, I need to attend to a customer. Stacy will be here with you shortly, though." 

The man left and traipsed over to a booth. Gerard looked back at Frank, who was smirking slyly, raising an eyebrow. 

"What?" Gerard asked. 

"You said 'my' grandparents. What happened to your plan; we're brothers, remember?" Frank said, as if Gerard had disclosed the big secret or something. He saw Gerard's face changing and cupped his cheek. "I'm just kidding, don't let yourself go back to that. Hey—think about this: no need to hitch a ride. Guess who's got a ride; we've got a ride! See? You should appreciate my firmness more."

"Yeah, we'd still be sitting in the car, hopeless, if it had been up to me," Gerard realized and sighed, relieved. Most of all, relieved that he didn't have to worry about heat exhaustion anymore. "Wait? Hitch a ride? Was that the alternative?"

"Well, you were getting kinda whiny. Maybe it wasn't  _the_ alternative, but it was an option," Frank explained, shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway. Sorry about the car."

Gerard waved a hand dismissively. "Eh. Like I told you, Mom wanted to get rid of it. She always hated it, said it was a pile of junk."

"It got us far, though," Frank pointed out, a faint smile on his face, "I'm thankful. We should've taken the plate and given it a proper funeral."

"Junkie. There, I named it," Gerard decided and placed his hand on his chest. "In memory of Junkie. Deep down, I acknowledge you, and I know you'll make an adequate home for vultures in this desert, until you get taken away."

"In memory of Junkie. We will remember you, even after you get totaled in hell." Frank nudged Gerard in the side and looked out of the window. "Look up."

"Amen," Gerard nodded repeatedly as he looked out of the window. The only right thing to do was to give it a minute of peace, and well, they tried, but someone interjected from behind, interrupting the ritual silence. 

"Wow, okay, I'm riveted." The blonde girl had returned, and as it seemed, changed out of her dainty dress into some cargo pants and combat boots. She blew her father a kiss from afar and ushered Gerard and Frank out, to the car, seemingly trying to small-talk. "Okay, strap yourselves in. So, how come you've gotten lost? This place isn't particularly complicated. Even tourists find their way around here."

"Um...I took a wrong turn, probably," Gerard said, he and Frank sliding into the backseat.

"Bullshit. It wasn't your fault; I blame the signs. They were lying," Frank addressed in a reassuring way, leaning into Gerard and reaching out to cup his cheek briefly. "Led us astray."

The girl made an affirmative sound. "That's true. They put temporary signs everywhere these days. Think a factory is to be built soon."

After a while, the girl seemed to have given up on small-talk, so they sat there in silence, and the only sound to somehow drown it out was the noise of the car engine. Frank was subconsciously holding Gerard's hand and playing with his fingers, looking out of the window, awe-struck at the view of a flock of sheep.

Ten minutes later, Gerard's cell phone started ringing. Trepidation chilled him to the bone; he couldn't open it, not in front of Frank. What if it was the person that had called earlier that morning? He couldn't risk it.

"Gerard," Frank glanced at him sideways when he noticed that Gerard wasn't moving to answer the phone. "Pick it up."

Dumbly, Gerard chose to pretend he didn't know what Frank was talking about. "Hmm? Pick what up?"

Frank made a face of 'are you kidding'. "The phone, Gerard. Somebody's calling."

"It's probably my mom," Gerard shrugged evasively and averted his gaze away from Frank. He knew Frank couldn't say anything to that. 

"What if it's your brother?" Frank said, surprisingly, reaching out to touch Gerard under the chin. Despite his attempt, Gerard sustained his defiance; he _couldn't_  pick up the phone. "You should at least see if it's Mikey. What if he's worrying?"

Gerard swallowed around an annoying lump in his throat, and almost fell for it. He almost took his cell phone out to check. "No," he uttered and drew his hand back. "No. It's not Mikey."

"How do you know if you haven't—"

"I just know, okay?" At this point, he was giving himself away. He figured he'd be compelled to tell Frank about this morning's call, sooner or later—just to feel his chest slacken some. 

Frank sighed heavily. "Gerard, just see if it's Mikey. Don't answer if you don't want to, text him back or something. He might be worried."

Likewise, Gerard sighed heavily and gave in to Frank's request, whipping out the cell phone and simply handing it to him right away. Something just didn't feel right. He knew it couldn't be Mikey calling.

"Well?"

"Private number," Frank notified. His eyebrows conflicted when he noticed Gerard's deadpan expression. "Why—has this happened before? Do you know who they are?"

Gerard let out a harsh breath and folded his arms across his chest. "I don't know who they are," he confessed, "but they called earlier this morning..."

Bewilderment flashed on top of Frank's expression. He meant to go on, he really did, but last minute did he really become aware of the stranger's presence. Firstly, he didn't want to display his and Gerard's problems, and secondly, Gerard didn't particularly look like he was in for discussing further on the matter.

Frank did, however, let him know that he was dropping the subject for the time being and not for good. No way he was going to let this pass. 

Silence ensued again. Boring-ass silence that was suffocating Gerard, who was fussing over whether Frank was mad at him or not. He eventually unfolded his arms and wiped that sullen expression off his face, glancing sneakily at Frank to check if he'd gone red in rage yet, which he hadn't.

Gerard sighed.

"Are you two together?" the girl—who Gerard had completely forgotten about—piped up, looking at them through the rear-view mirror. "Like, together together. You know...boyfriends?"

"Uh..." Gerard said inadvertently.

"Which is fine, by the way," she added immediately after, her eyes growing wide. She was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel nervously. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Gerard turned to eye Frank. Any sign of discomposure had dissipated from his face, which already made him feel better. Frank looked back at him and shrugged laconically.

"It's okay," Gerard assured her. 

"We kind of are..." Frank went on for him. He leaned over and whispered in Gerard's ear. "Is it that obvious? Lindsey was right."

"Told you."

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed, then cleared her throat like she was embarrassed. "I mean...that's cool. Good for you, guys. Sorry I'm freaking out. I think it's showing, isn't it? I'm cool with it. I'm gay myself."

Halfway through her sentence, Gerard had been pretty befuddled, but he finally got what Stacey was talking about. "But I thought your father said—"

"Yeah. I'm getting married to a man." A doleful sigh escaped her lips which she shaped into a momentary curl of dissatisfaction. "It's not my choice. That's just how it is for some people, you know? Can't do anything else, I've always been 'daddy's girl'. If he finds out what I really am, he'll be hurt."

"How is it not your choice?" Frank wondered, bowing his head slightly. Gerard attempted to meet his gaze, but it seemed that Frank could still be a bit mad. "It's you who's getting married."

"There's nothing else I can do, you see. I remember the time I ran away with my girlfriend. We got caught, but Dad never found out about it—he thought we were just friends. I never saw her again. Since then, Dad's been real protective and now he's 'handing me over' to another man who can, apparently, 'take good care of me'. If I don't marry that man, I won't ever be able to leave my hometown." Stacy lowered her head and her blonde curls covered her eyes. "You guys actually remind me of us—me and Eva. We were eighteen when we ran away."

 _Funny story, actually,_  Gerard thought in his head and laughed. 

Frank rotated his neck slowly and met Gerard's eyes for a quick moment before looking away swiftly. That made Gerard feel like he was being teased, because he was dying to know what was going on in Frank'shead. Furthermore, if he was angry or not.

Frank carried on the conversation with Stacey and Gerard observed him intently.

The time passed and before they knew it, they were hemmed in with tall buildings instead of trees and surrounded by vigorous-walking people and cars. Stacey pulled in at a less noisy street and got off the car. 

Right when Gerard was about to give her the money, she smiled sweetly and shook her head, taking a step backward. "I don't want money. I had fun talking to you guys."

"Thank you," Gerard voiced and Frank repeated, meaning the words as they said them. 

"And...good luck."

"I thank  _you_ ," Stacey corrected in a cheerful tone and went on explaining to Gerard where they'd find the train station and other services in the area. Meanwhile, Frank grabbed their bag with their stuff and listened tacitly. 

The girl waved at them, got in the car, pulled out, and Gerard was just left staring at the car driving away for a while, marginally more anxious than before. Frank began pacing away without speaking and Gerard hurried after him. 

***

They stopped to eat at an empty restaurant to eat and hopefully find a place to stay the night. 

Not entirely. They didn't really eat; both had lost their appetite. They just mused and talked over the table of two glasses of lemonade. Gerard was positive they could still reach their destination, if they'd take the train early in the next morning, so his head was focused merely on planning. 

He hadn't realized how Frank was avoiding eye-contact with him until then.

"You're mad at me," he declared, certain. Frank heaved a sigh. 

"No," Frank uttered, much to Gerard's surprise, "I'm just confused. Explain what's going on please."

"Someone called this morning, I didn't pick up, they sent a text. And that's about it," Gerard summarized, avoiding prolongation. "That's all."

"What text?" Frank demanded to know, his voice sounding weary. Not wanting to irritate him, Gerard handed him the cell phone right away and showed him the text he'd received that morning. Frank's eyes grew big. "Okay, I think it's safe to say that this is  _not_  a friend of yours. And definitely not a friend of mine." One moment, Frank was gaping at the screen, speechless, and immediately after, he eerily looked like he wanted to strangle somebody. "Gerard! Why didn't you tell me?!"

Gerard chose to skip over the 'I didn't think it was important' justification-bullshit and chose to tell the truth right away. "I didn't want you to worry."

Frank huffed incredulously. "Gerard, God— _yes_ , I might be just a tiny bit alarmed, but that doesn't do anything. It's not like I'm gonna give up on this or something. I don't understand. Why didn't you tell me? We're—we  _are_  in this together, you know."

"I know, I know, I just—I thought you might wanna go back. And I don't..."

"Go back? Are you kidding?" Frank laughed a maniac laugh, assuring Gerard that he wasn't angry. He pointed to the nearest window. "I rather hit my head against that window until it brakes to shards, then, cut myself and bleed to death."

"Okay, I get it," Gerard gulped and dropped his gaze to the tiled floor. Thinking of going back made him want to bite his lip until it bled. For the time being, he chewed on it continuously, until he came to the decision to apologize. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Frank eyed him earnestly. "I don't need your sorry. You know I'm not mad—I can't be mad at you." The latter caused Gerard's heart to skip a beat. Frank made various hand gestures; but ended up sighing exaggeratedly, since he couldn't replace words with hand motions. "Forget it...I just—Who could it be?"

"Uh," Gerard tried, lowering his gaze again. He thought thoroughly, promised himself that as soon as he had the corroborative evidence, he'd head to the police. And then he remembered; police. God, fuck them. "I have a few suspects in mind."

The cell phone buzzed in Frank's hands. He pushed their plates on the table aside and extended his arm to show Gerard a text.

"Oh, how delightful. 'Needless to say, Frank, you're fucked. Love, Fred'," Frank read out loud, worked-up, and shaped his lips into a sneer. He repeated to Gerard, who seemed to be unblinking, "Well?"

"Well," Gerard shook his head vehemently to escape the stock-still state he was in. "Call me Sherlock Holmes."

"And—" Frank began with a smile that quickly evaporated when he received another text. He gulped; his face had never been more ashen white before—perhaps it was as ashen white as that time in the changing room, back in September. "Jesus," he whispered, shock evident in his voice, "Gerard, they know where we are."

Gerard's jaw tightened; he took the phone to his hands and read the new message for himself.

"Well, at least they don't know where we're going." 

And that's the one thing they can't know, he thought, because he hadn't even told Frank. He never wrote it down, he never told anybody. Or so he thought.

Rather than flying into a fit of rage and panicking, they sat quietly and wordlessly in the booth until the restaurant started filling up. Darkness was encroaching when they were out of the restaurant, but finally, a refreshing coolness was brought to the town after the sultry day that had passed. 

Not that far off, a blinking sign read 'motel' which was quite consoling for both of them. Frank slid his arm through Gerard's and together, they walked over to the building, rented a room, and headed leisurely to it. Still not talking.

Gerard put their bag down, shut the door, and breathed out. His mind had gone blank since that moment in the restaurant, when they'd received the text from Frank's cousin. No matter how much he commanded himself to cerebrate, think about their options and whatnot, his brain just wouldn't cooperate. 

Frank walked slowly to a mirror next to a dresser in the room and looked at himself. Well, not particularly at himself; if anyone were to ask him right then, he'd claim that he was looking at the glass. In reality, he was just scanning through his mind, reflecting back on that day.

Once Gerard had found himself again, he walked over to Frank and stood limply behind him. He hooked his chin over Frank's shoulder and wrapped a hand around his waist, Frank reaching out to touch the back of Gerard's head. 

He seemed to be out of his reflecting-moment when he glanced sideways at Gerard, frowning.

"You said you can only show me, when I asked you if you actually love me," he half-whispered, moving his hand to caress the side of Gerard's face, "show me now."

Gerard frowned, puzzled for a moment. Did Frank know what Gerard had meant by 'I can only show you' earlier that day? If he did, why was he calling it upon himself? 

"I want you to. But if you don't, it's okay. No pressure," Frank smiled faintly, glancing sideways at Gerard, in an almost innocent way.

Maybe this would be their temporary coping mechanism. Perhaps they could do that and just— _fuck_  everything and everyone else.

After a moment's reflection, Gerard turned his head so that their mouths met.


	25. Chapter 25

Gerard worked with all the freedom Frank gave him—stripped him down to his boxers, straddled his hips on the creaky motel bed, and kissed him breathlessly. For all the times he'd wanted to kiss him; he kissed Frank's lips, his neck, his chest. Really exploiting all the freedom he had.

Blood was roaring in his ears; they felt as warm as his cheeks. He let his lips brush Frank's ears briefly as he moved his knee between his thighs. And for the one moment he stopped, Frank groaned, arching his hips and tugging on the fabric of Gerard's shirt. 

" _Oh_ , fuck, Gerard, please, I just need you right now—" Frank mewled and slipped his hands down on Gerard's back to cup his ass, making whiny noises as Gerard went on sucking on a soft spot on his neck. "Please? Like, can you—do you wanna...? Do you actually want to...?"

Gerard went still for a moment, staring clueless and wide-eyed at Frank until he mumbled a soft "Yeah," when he realized that Frank wasn't just moaning incoherent words anymore and he was actually talking to him. Internally, he was hyperventilating, because okay, Frank was kissing him and trying to undress him at the same time and, oh God, that was happening. Like, Frank was looking like he was  _aching_  for it, but Gerard had started fussing over, doubtful as to if he could really do this.

Frank was removing Gerard's shirt hastily, hooking a leg around him to draw him even closer, hips rubbing together. He backed off slightly and unbuckled Gerard's jeans, pulling him close into a triumphant kiss immediately after while he was struggling to scramble out of them.

Gerard grunted into Frank's mouth and broke away from a passionate, hard kiss, despite himself.

"Frank—wait, wait, hold on," he finally said and heard Frank whimper in a needy way. "Uh—can you, like, get on top of me? Fuck, I-I can't—Can we switch?"

For a moment, Frank stayed still, staring at him as if he was speaking another language. "You mean, actually on top? But you are supposed to...you don't want this?"

"No! I mean, I do want this, I just," Gerard sighed, resting his forehead on Frank's. "In case you've forgotten or something," he laughed, "I'm a huge virgin."

"So what? First time for everything," Frank cupped his cheek, thinking that Gerard was just insecure again and he could fix that by boosting his confidence. But well, it wasn't as simple as that. 

Gerard sighed again and groaned. "But I-I feel—exposed. Oh my God. That time, back then—w-hen we argued—well, not 'argued' but y'know, y-you said that I was such a bottom and, though that's not entirely true, for now at least, you were right? I mean, you  _were_  right. I mean, I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" Frank wondered, frowning. 

"Scared of..." Gerard's voice trailed away as he mused. "Just..."

Eyes examining his all embarrassed and red face, Frank smiled lopsidedly and gave in. "Okay," he consented, not at all opposed to what Gerard was asking of him. He did as he wished and they switched. 

And for a while, he stared down at Gerard, unblinking, and perhaps if Gerard hadn't glanced to the right, Frank might have never even breathed.

His eyes widened when he understood what Gerard was nodding at. He realized, "Oh. Um, right. Yeah. Condom."

"Uh-huh."

"Sorry, I'll just—"

"Yeah. Um. There. Front pocket."

Frank leaned over to fumble in the front pocket of the bag for a condom, instead, finding a box and, good Lord, Mikey had packed them lube too. Like, jeez, little brother's instinct or what?

"Thank fuck—your brother's a psychic," Frank laughed. Well, that's the other way of saying it.

Gerard made an embarrassed whine which turned into a moan when he felt Frank's hand wrap around his erection inside his boxers. He lifted his hips off the bed so that he could shimmy out of his underwear and Frank moved down to place a brief kiss on his lower abdomen and just  _licked_  him. Again. That was going to indubitably be the death of Gerard, as he went on whimpering, just really mesmerized under Frank's touch. 

Simultaneously, he was trying to fathom; struggling to understand how a person who'd gone through hell was the nicest person he had ever met. It was astounding. And the fact that Frank wanted Gerard's consent to everything? Jeez. Drown Gerard in a pool of alcohol, because he was so intoxicated  _in love_. Oh, and not to mention, Frank wanted _him_. Gerard had never ever felt so wanted and loved before—not in a relationship, at least. He had either been missing out on so much in life, or maybe it was all supposed to begin now.

So, Gerard and all those wild feelings of his he mustered up and just turned them into courage to tug off Frank's underwear and just stop for a moment to stare at him, looking all gorgeous and perfect. He watched Frank trying to utter something out, but curse words escaped his mouth instead.

"Christ. Gerard. I-I never thought—" he tried once more, Gerard handing him the condom packet when he figured that he was completely useless at tearing it open himself. In Frank's not-as-shaky hands it looked like less of a challenge, as he tore it open immediately and placed it beside them on the mattress, able again to continue what he wanted to say, at the same time leaning in to taste Gerard. "I never thought I'd be able to be so honest with someone else. Myself—like,  _straightforward,"_ he said, words tangled and noises muffled into the kiss.

"Straightforward is not really the word to use when you're literally about to fuck me in the ass, Frank," Gerard laughed, pulling back, interrupting the kiss to add, "but I get what you mean."

And an indignant 'fuck you' was the provocative thing to say to Gerard, because he replied 'fuck me, indeed' almost instantaneously. So there was Frank, fingers coated in lube, ready to prep Gerard immediately after, and kissing him sloppily when he moaned croaky moans of satisfaction. 

Two fingers in and Gerard was already groaning for it, dipping his nails in the small of Frank's back. The feeling of Frank pulling his fingers out made him flinch, an inexplicable chill tickling his spine.

"Can I?" Frank asked and got a wild nod as a response. He slid on the condom and opened the bottle of lube, squeezed some onto his fingers, deep down  _really_  thanking Mikey Way for well...existing. Meanwhile, Gerard repositioned himself slightly on the bed, moving farther down so that his shoulders barely touched the wall behind, and looking up at Frank, impatiently and seductively.

"Sorry for not reciprocating last—oh,  _fuck_. Fuck," Gerard moaned loudly, a moan he couldn't bite back, twitching when Frank pushed into him, movements slow and careful. 

A twinge of pain shot through his body, and that had him scrabbling at the slovenly white sheets of the bed. Thoughts flooded his fizzling mind. He couldn't help but wonder if he was good enough for Frank; if Frank was actually comparing Gerard to the last person he'd had sex with. Gerard hadn't had sex before to know if it was just as addictive as the second cigarette you smoke, he didn't know if Frank had been waiting for this for a long time or if he'd missed it. Hell, he didn't even know how Frank's first time had been. But Gerard could almost certainly tell Frank hadn't had sex only once in his life, because he undoubtedly looked like he knew what he was doing.

Gerard's body seemed to be slowly adjusting after Frank had sped up his movements; surges of pain ebbed, evolving into pleasure he could greatly relish. It was so mesmerizing, he wasn't able to fuss over whatever his mind came up with at the moment. He let himself loose and just, now and then, stopped to look at Frank and just think:  _fucking gorgeous_. 

"This  _is_  reciprocating, Jesus fuck," Frank panted, sliding one hand under Gerard's lower back as he arched his hips off the bed for him, shaky and losing his breath. "You feel so good, Gee. Fucking Christ."

"Did you just—" Gerard hooking his legs around Frank's waist, facilitating his thrusts, and made contact with his eyes that were hiding behind strands of hair. "D-did you just call me 'Gee'?"

Frank drew in a sharp breath, biting his lip and pushing all the way in and Gerard just dug his fingers into Frank's shoulders, moaned loudly; he could only hope that nobody was in the room next to them because he almost certainly couldn't be less loud. 

"Y-yeah, sorry, don't know where that came from. Ahh, fucking hell," Frank hissed, adrenaline rushing through him as he stopped for a moment inside Gerard to catch his breath, the arm he was supporting himself on shaking. 

"I liked it," Gerard addressed and then, commanded in a half-whisper, "call me that again."

"Gee—jeez, Jesus fuck," Frank choked out. He glanced briefly at Gerard for an approving nod and began moving in and out of him again.

His thrusts began to grow deeper and harder, and just when Gerard meant to say "faster," he was interrupted, feeling like part of him had ignited when Frank hit a certain spot. "Fuck.  _Fuck,_  Frankie, do that again. Right there."

Frank breathed out a laugh, which turned into a moan as he kept thrusting in. "There?"

Since he was moaning and repeating Frank's name, Gerard deemed it senseless to respond to that. He didn't know how much more he could last, he only knew it wouldn't be too long. Heart thudding in his chest, he moved his hand down to touch himself. Frank seemed to be trying to find the pace again, breathless. He pulled all the way out and Gerard pulled him closer swiftly for a lingering kiss. Taking his time by sucking on Frank's bottom lip into his mouth and then pausing, lips barely touching as they both panted for air.

A moan was all Frank needed as a cue. He nodded and entered Gerard again, resuming his thrusts as Gerard gasped and felt his cock jerk. His heart was skipping beats and he felt like his chest was going to jerk upward at any moment.

"Like that?" Frank breathed, by the time he'd done so, Gerard had come all over his stomach. Frank let out a guttural moan, listening to Gerard choke out a bunch of curse words, and attempted to thrust once more, but couldn't last. "I think I'm—fuck," he went tense, gave in, and collapsed on top of Gerard as if he was dissolving into pleasure. He removed the condom, threw it on the bin next to them carelessly, and rested his head on Gerard's chest.

Gerard shut his eyes and cherished the blackness for a moment, still a panting mess. He moved his hand up and ran his fingers through Frank's hair. Quite content and comfortable in the position they were in, he just allowed himself to rest for a while until the moment when he was close to getting lost in thought. 

He moved himself down a bit so that he could conveniently stare down at Frank and wrapped a leg around his. Frank's lips shaped themselves into a smirk and Gerard had to turn Frank's face to admire it. 

A laugh escaped him and he rested his forehead against Gerard's, his hands sliding up to cup the sides of his face. It was like his tongue was guiding him when he crashed their mouths together again. A passionate kiss it was; slow, eyes closed and all. Their tongues swirled around each other's. 

"Mmph! Wait a sec. Hey—" Frank pulled away, smiling. "I-I need to say this," he stuttered and looked straight into Gerard's eyes. "No matter what happens next, I...I love you, okay? Just know that if anyone intervenes or anything happens—"

"Nothing's gonna happen, Frank," Gerard cut him off, resisting the urge to gulp. "Not ever."

Frank just laughed at that, which fairly made Gerard doubt he believed what he'd just told him but thankfully Frank confirmed that right after with a quiet, "Okay." 

He got off Gerard and laid down on the bed right next to him, nuzzling his neck and stroking his chest tenderly, after a while, he uttered out a simple "Wow." And it didn't seem to be one of those things you'd let out inadvertently while pondering; the level of his voice indicated that he wanted Gerard to hear that.

And so, Gerard repeated, "Wow?"

"Just...You. Wow. I don't know how to articulate," Frank explained, laughing at himself. 

Gerard tilted his head to look at him, the tips of their noses slightly touching, and shrugged. "Then don't. I do. Actually, it's one of the few times I can articulate." Frank slightly nodded, instructing Gerard to go on. "This is the most alive I've ever felt. Like, ever. With you it's like—It's like the world around me doesn't exist, because I don't give a damn about it anymore. But you still make me feel like a have a purpose."

"And what's that?" Frank asked, with a couldn't-help-but-smile smile.

Gerard opened his mouth, drew in a breath to speak, when he realized that he couldn't because he simply didn't know what to say. He exhaled and shrugged. "I don't know. You tell me, Purpose-giver."

"How am I supposed to know when I gave you a purpose subconsciously?" Frank huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes. His expression resembled a frown when he seemed to have stumbled on something in his mind. "Off-topic, but I'm gonna ask you again, since you've enabled that articulate feature of yours now."

"Shoot."

"Do you seriously never forget how old you are?"

Much like the last time Frank had asked him that, Gerard could answer after a quick moment's reflection. It wasn't that hard. 

"I don't," he said sincerely, but realized he needed to add in when he thought again, "but it's probably because I never cared about how old I am. The only time I clearly remember caring was on my eighteenth birthday. Every birthday before and after that was ordinary."

"But I mean, like, you never think that we're just two kids?"

Laconically, Gerard shrugged and shook his head.

"Not ever? Not even crossed your mind?" Frank prompted, unduly curious at this point. Due to merely that, Gerard gave in to consideration. 

"I guess when the guys mentioned—or when you mentioned the words 'running away' it made me think that we are just kids." In between his pause, his brows furrowed. "I mean, if we weren't, then this wouldn't be called 'running away', would it? Adults don't run away from home. They go on road trips..."

"Huh," Frank laughed, one corner of his mouth lifting, "some fucking road trip. Or they go on business trips."

"Or honeymoons."

"Or they go to jail."

The latter caused Gerard to scoff. He bet that a high percentage was imprisoned unjustly, while some people that should be imprisoned were still at large. Oh, how unfair this world is. But then again, who's to say what's fair or not?

For a while as they lay there, Gerard had only made plans on staying in that position until they'd fallen asleep. He hadn't had any speeches or lectures or talks in mind. Being that happy, he didn't need anything else other than to feel Frank's breath on his neck and his touch to know that he was still next to him. Safe and sound. Sleeping. 

But Frank was not sleeping. He was sighing heavily, his face scrunched up, as if he was trying to compose himself.

"Are you okay?" Gerard asked eventually, wrapping an arm around him protectively and squeezing his shoulder. 

"Yeah, I just..." Frank tried, his frown gradually trailing away, "I don't know how many times I've said or shown this, but I don't want this to end, Gee. I  _really_  don't want this to fucking end."

It was Gerard's turn to frown in concern. He didn't know what was going through Frank's mind to know how to help him. "Then it won't. You said that, remember? You were the one that brought me into my senses when I dramatically lost all hope. And I was positive that we could just live in that car in the middle of a freaking desert, mind you."

"That was—" Frank paused, hesitating to speak all of a sudden. "That was before!" he claimed, voice rising an octave, close to a cry, causing Gerard to flinch. He pulled him closer and stroked his shoulder, shushing to soothe him. Frank's breathing was heavy and slightly impaired. 

"What do you mean? Before what?"

"Before—" Frank hesitated again, exhaling a quavering breath. "Before we learned they know where we are—they're fucking after us, Gerard, after  _this_ ," was all he said before Gerard noticed he'd burst into tears, right there, on his chest. 

And Gerard froze, blacked out. He didn't think he was quite following, but later on, the realization hit him. He had put the matter aside in his mind since that time at the restaurant, but as Frank was sobbing into his chest, that triggered the thoughts to resurface—as harrowing as they had been earlier that day.

He was struggling to regain some composure in his mind as he simultaneously was holding Frank close, stroking him tenderly and trying to soothe him down. 

"Frank—"

"I don't wanna l-leave you, Gerard—I can't. I-I rather die," Frank whimpered, tears falling thick and fast and landing on Gerard's chest. He hugged him tighter and placed a kiss on his head, trying to keep himself as calm as possible.

"You won't need to," he promised in a whisper, cheek brushing Frank's forehead, "nothing's gonna take you from my side."

"Fucking  _fuck_ , I'm sorry—I'm so so sorry for getting y-you mixed up in t-this," Frank stuttered, completely ignoring what Gerard had told him, "I-I'm so s-sorry. B-but I love you too much to back off now—I'm sorry I'm such a  _coward._ "

"Don't say that," Gerard said, unease pooling in his stomach. He clenched his eyes shut and drew in a pained breath. "You're brave. You're so fucking brave, Frank. You're the bravest person I've ever met."

Despite his attempt, Frank went on blaming himself. And it hurt Gerard so fucking much to hear him say such horrible things about himself and sob ceaselessly. But then again, there wasn't anything else Gerard could do; he had to try staunchly to pacify him, let him release all those tears, regardless of how much it was hurting him. 

The fact that they had been having sex with only minutes ago and now Frank was weeping perpetually into Gerard's chest made Gerard feel like he was such a fail of a boyfriend. Like, what the actual fuck? He felt so useless. Not to mention, he was so shit at comforting people, it was tragic.

But he went on and on, repeating  _'you're so brave, Frank'_  and  _'I love you'_ s that hopefully Frank's ears caught and provided some slight comfort. Gerard really was trying his absolute fucking best to let Frank know he wasn't going to leave his side. 

Nobody could take him from Frank's side.

At about the hundredth time Gerard had said, "I love you," Frank decided to echo it back and, though it sounded broken and wrecked, the delight it brought Gerard was unaccountable. It was like all the broken pieces of him were rejoined.

He kissed Frank on the forehead and then said, "Nobody's going to ever hurt you again. And nobody's gonna take you away from me, okay?"

A sniff and a weak nod was Frank's response, but Gerard was honestly gratified with that. 

"What..." Frank mumbled, lifting his head to look at Gerard, eyes glistening, "what are we going to do?"

"Tomorrow," Gerard promised, "tomorrow, I'll tell you everything. I promise." He hugged Frank tightly, his chest lifting and falling as he heaved a sigh. Frank turned his head slightly, allowing Gerard to lean in and place a careful, sweet kiss on his dried lips. 

"Don't leave in the morning, please," Frank begged, voice tired and croaky. "Promise me."

"I promise. You're gonna wake up and I'm going to be right beside you. I promise, I  _promise_ ," Gerard repeated to reassure Frank but himself as well. From sheer weariness, all he could do was hold Frank in his arms. He couldn't speak to calm him anymore, but that wasn't needed thankfully, because, in less than five minutes, Frank was already asleep.


	26. Chapter 26

"We'll catch the train to Lyndhurst and then we need to take the bus," Gerard disclosed his plans, finally, as Frank would think. Not that that enlightened him entirely, he was still in the dark, and it was obvious that Gerard was still being slightly cryptic about it. 

At a loss, Frank admitted, "I don't know where Lyndhurst is."

"We're in New Jersey, Lyndhurst is in New Jersey," Gerard offered, a sigh escaping him as he continued, "and I figured we could get the bus from there to get to my grandparents'."

Frank didn't speak. Again, that didn't provide the major help he was hoping for; he didn't know where Gerard's grandparents lived. So, he sat tacitly and observed Gerard packing their stuff, double-checking his wallet and everything. And thus, he seemed to be lost in his own little world again. But it would've been awry if he had been so lost not to listen to Gerard utter the single, sly-informative word; "Belleville."

"Huh?" Frank unfroze, shaking his thoughts away.

"That's where my grandparents live and, y'know..." Gerard mumbled, unsure, "I figured...you'd wanna...we could... If you want to, of course. We could pass by and you could see her?"

Frank stared at him like a goldfish, unblinking, his mouth agape, unable to produce words, which started to creep Gerard out after a while, until Frank finally squirmed out of that state to say, "Thank you."

"T-thank you? I-I just thought..." Gerard stammered, growing nervous. Drawing an invigorating breath, he shifted back into his former attitude. "You don't need to, if you don't want to. I-I figured you'd wanna see her but...I'm not sure now."

"Of course I want to see her, Gerard," Frank said, his voice sounding calm but somehow sad, wistful, "she's my mother."

***

Public transport was, apparently, less complicated than registered in Gerard's memory. The only issue that occurred during the commencement of their journey was getting on the full bus. After finally getting on the bus, an equivocal twenty-minute ride followed. A true ordeal but, nonetheless, Gerard could manage. 

He didn't say anything, but he was convinced the driver was either drunk or nonexistent. And God, his neck had started hurting after so much head-bobbing. Not to mention, he and Frank were squished and at times almost separated from each other on that cramped bus of hell. Frank was firmly holding on to Gerard's hand, palms clammy from the heat, apprehension, and pressure. It seemed like an eternity had passed until they were finally free. 

"Fucking finally," Gerard grumbled, his hair falling wet on his face as if he'd run an entire mile.

Frank didn't complain. He was too busy studying the area, eyes darting around frantically. "This place looks so familiar."

"Thank fuck they didn't drop us off at some desolate place or something...My grandma's house is that way." Gerard pointed a finger limply to a long road ahead, scattered dwellings alongside the sidewalk. "We can go leave the stuff there, say hi, and head off. She won't mind if we tell her we'll come back."

By the time he'd finished his sentence, they were already walking down the long road. Lapsing into silence; which was more of an alleviation rather than a burden. It was a needed silence, during which Gerard enabled his deep-contemplation mode again, the place awakening memories from two years ago. 

Two years ago, Gerard had visited his grandparents in the summer, along with his friends. Ray, Bob, and his brother. It was strange to think about how everything had changed since then. Summer, he thought. 

A gust of June, summer wind blew against his face, refreshing. Nothing like last year's stifling, vexatious wind, that encouraged that bleakness inside him and ruffled his hair in front of his eyes, so that strands of his fringe would annoyingly stick to his wet-from-crying cheeks.

He had been so alone. God, Gerard had been miserable and alone. Just June last year, he was so weak and forlorn. Withered like Bob Bryar's flowers in December.

Gerard had been stuck, helplessly in a stupor, waiting for school. Ray-less, Bob-less, Mikey-less, and most of all, Frank-less. No sincere smile on his face, no excitement over anything, no color in his life. 

Come to think of it, Gerard had only been waiting for his senior year. There was nothing remarkable about that last summer; he'd merely been wallowing in misery and longing for the unknown. And when September came, it brought his world upside down. His life suddenly went from uneventful to oh-my-god-eventful. Frank showed up, Ray came back, Pete Wentz drama ensued, and again Frank was there, Brendon's party happened, captivating sunsets, his father turned up, and then again  _Frank_ , and just really a mantra of: Frank-Frank-and-again-Frank.

He felt Frank so close to him, in a way he'd never felt about anyone before. It was an inexplicable, subliminal bond. As if he'd known Frank for years.

"Whatcha thinking about?" 

A laugh escaped Gerard's lips. He replied sincerely, "You."

"Liar," Frank chuckled and looked down, pulling Gerard closer to him. Gerard deemed it useless to respond to that, and so the silence was convened again, giving Frank his time to gather his thoughts. He was nibbling on his bottom lip.

Gerard glanced at him sideways, worriedly. "You're okay, right? This place doesn't perturb you or something, right?"

"No, I just would never think about this...happening. It seems too surreal. Like, look around, we're here. 'S like I'm dreaming or something."

"I fucking hope it's  _not_  a dream," Gerard tittered nervously, his hand automatically reaching to clasp Frank's, "I'd be really pissed."

"Can't imagine why," Frank said and heard Gerard laugh, nodding. "No, I'm being serious. Like, man, your life must have been really peaceful and cool and all, and then, one day you meet me, and I corrode all serenity. I constitute major trouble. I'd be pissed at _me_."

"You can't be serious. Frank, my life was like watching paint dry. Most of the time, I felt like my life's so dull, I could die."

As if his mind needed time to let that message sink in, Frank waited before speaking. "I'm glad you didn't."

"So am I." Gerard smirked and held Frank's hand tightly. "And you  _don't_  constitute major trouble. Don't say that about yourself. You gave me a purpose, remember?"

"One that I don't know of," Frank reminded him.

"Still. I love you," Gerard said and slid his arm around Frank's shoulders, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. "You deserve the world. Well, the good part of the world anyway."

Frank laughed. Gerard scoffed. He meant what he said, alright? 

"You're my world, so, as long as you're with me, I'm fine," he told Gerard and heard him chuckle heartily. "Okay, I know. Cheesy. Told you I can't help it. I love you too."

After more walking, Gerard's steps became more halting. He recognized the place around them and stopped walking to stare at the house that was awaking so many memories. After having edged a few steps closer, he motioned Frank forward.

As soon as he rang the bell, he launched at the lady that opened the door, smiling broadly in happiness and surprise. Hugs and kisses followed, as the elder woman took both of the boys to her arms, although she didn't quite know who Frank was. But Frank decided he liked her immediately.

"Come in, you two, come in!" she invited amiably. "Lunch will be ready in a minute and I've got freshly baked brownies in the kitchen."

Gerard glanced at Frank briefly and went on to explain, "But, Grandma, first we need to—"

"No, you don't need 'to' anything, not with an empty stomach, Gerard honey. Come on, sit down and eat, you can tell me everything. Then, you can go on with your business."

Gerard glanced at Frank again, who nodded in an agreeing manner, and so Gerard gave in. Besides, his grandmother was probably right. They hadn't eaten anything since yesterday evening.

So, they sat and ate peacefully with Gerard's grandmother, who couldn't stop babbling about how cute Frank was, complementing his facial features and everything, to which Frank coyly smiled and replied "Thank you, Ma'am" every time, making it impossible for Gerard to keep a straight face. The entire time, he was grinning like an idiot. 

Then, she went on and asked a quite risky question on the matter of Gerard's father, which he could really have done without, but oh well, he took his time to reply to that—meaning, he was holding himself back from yelling. That conversation ended there, and another one, less upsetting, began, accompanied by a cup of coffee and brownies. And, Jesus Christ, it took Gerard that long to notice that this felt so close to home—furthermore, it took him that long to realize, they didn't have to sleep in creaky motel beds anymore. Not unless they decided to head off again.

And the next time Gerard glanced at the clock, he noticed it was already afternoon.

So, he and Frank finished up their coffee and told Gerard's grandmother they'd come home soon again. They got up and left the cozy home to go to...wherever the hell.

"Your grandmother is lovely," Frank said once outside, not bothering to hide his genuine smile.

"She likes you alright." Gerard added after a moment's reflection, "And she doesn't like everyone. Though it's possible that my mother had called her sometime in the past and told her we're dating or something."

"You've told your mom?"

Gerard scanned his memory, trying to recall. "Nah. I think she made Mikey divulge everything. But anyway, all of them really like you. Even my aunt."

"Well, I feel honored." 

Frank observed Gerard taking the piece of paper the address was scribbled on out of his pocket and handing it to him. Frank examined it and frowned when he looked up again, scoping the area. "We'll need to ask the locals."

Gerard nodded in agreement and trailed after Frank when he began walking towards a person to ask. An old man with a lawnmower instructed them to continue along that road and then, he went on mentioning some shops Gerard didn't quite catch. They thanked the man and followed his directions, walked for twenty minutes in which in between they asked a bunch of other people as well, until Frank pointed out a sign that read the street's name. 

"It's supposed to be somewhere...over there then," Gerard noted, pointing his index to a bunch of suburban houses in a row. "Does this place remind you of something?"

"I guess," Frank heaved a sigh, his eyebrows slightly contracting. "Yeah. It definitely does now." 

There was something playing in his expression that made Gerard worry. Something felt off. 

"Frank," he called when they were about to walk up to a certain house that seemed to be reeling Frank in, "are you sure about this?"

Frank pursed his lips and trudged on, laconically, which was even more worrying. When they were standing on the doorstep, that's when Gerard's heart started racing. He felt an urge to reach out and hold Frank's hand but didn't.

Determined, Frank pressed his finger onto the doorbell and held his breath. The short silence of anticipation was painful.

Finally, a tall, burly man with olive skin opened the door. Gerard felt his heart sink at the disappointment and frustration that engulfed him. 

"Hello. Can I, uh, help you?" the man asked, eyes wide and round. 

"Hello, um..." Frank looked like he was forcing out the words past gritted teeth. He looked like he was about to punch something. "We're looking for Linda Iero. Does she live here?"

A slow head shake of negation felt like a stab in Gerard's chest. Just when Frank was about to thank the man and turn to leave, he heard him shout out a, "Wait!"

Instantaneously, Gerard and Frank whipped around and looked at him with wide open eyes. 

"I might be wrong, but, uh," he said, fumbling in a drawer beside him. Then, he revealed a piece of paper, skimmed over it and looked at Frank. "A-are you Frank?"

Frank nodded wildly, utterly shocked. 

"Someone left this—and they  _threatened_ —I mean, t-they  _said_  I oughta give it to someone with the name Frank I-I...eroh? That how you say it? Um," the man paused and handed Frank the piece of paper. "Here."

"Did she say anyth—"

"I-I'm sorry, I c-can't," the man interrupted Frank, shaking his head violently and holding up his hands as if Gerard and Frank were intending to hurt him, "I-I need to c-call someone."

The brows on Frank's face rose in disbelief. Gerard couldn't quite believe it either, but he was half-dubious, again, something felt terribly  _off_.

"Well, thank you anyways," Frank forced out, struggling to keep his voice measured. 

"Y-you too, um, and good...good luck. G-goodbye," the man uttered out nervously and shut the door quickly. Gerard almost flinched. Well, that was weird. 

He turned to look at where Frank had been, but Frank had already walked off. He called after Gerard to follow.

"W-what does it say, what is it?" Gerard asked anxiously, scurrying after Frank.

"Directions, I guess. What's—that's another address and...it says _'door's always open'_. Do you think..." Frank paused, musing, then his eyes went wide, "do you think that's where she lives now? Maybe she left it there and—oh, God, am I about to see her now?!"

Doubtful, Gerard didn't reply immediately. And when he did, he replied in a manner that was rather disheartening, although he didn't mean for it to be. "Frank, don't you feel like something's wrong? Like, the guy said someone threatened him. And how he needed to call someone immediately, that's just  _fishy_. You don't think—"

"No," Frank cut him off, causing Gerard's dubiety to increase. He's in denial, he thought. "No, Gerard. I don't."

Gerard dropped his gaze to the sidewalk guiltily. Resigned, he merely uttered out, "Okay."

He kept his mouth shut as they plodded onward, anxious and impatient. He kept his mouth shut as Frank was biting his lip nervously. He even kept his mouth shut for a whole ten minutes, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut when he realized where they were walking towards, his worst fear being that that was the place.

"We're here," Frank announced, lifting his head to look around, despite Gerard's interminable hope. 

He still wanted to keep his mouth shut, but he just couldn't. He prayed to every deity that Frank had been wrong. Crossed his fingers and clenched his eyes shut and just— _hoped_. 

Futile. They were still there when he opened them again. And Frank was pale and still, staring disconcerted at the sign that read in capital letters words that felt too venomous to rise to one's tongue.

"Frank, t-that's..." Gerard stuttered, voice wavering, unsteady; it could easily crumble down like a wall made out of sand—heck,  _he_  could easily collapse, drop dead on the spot at any moment. "That's a graveyard."

Frank didn't speak. He stayed there, unblinking and speechless. Finally, he took a wavering step forward, but Gerard stopped him, turned him around to look at him in anguish. He shook his head, knowing that this wasn't going to end well. 

He could already feel tears welling up in his eyes.

"That's not a good idea, Frank. Let's...let's just go."

"Gerard, I have to," Frank simply claimed, closing his eyes, "I need to know. Then, I can let things be...I just need to know now."

And so, Gerard let go of him and walked after him when he entered the cemetery. 

His eyes darted around anxiously, every time they fell upon a gravestone, he was forced to cast them away, feeling like he was invading a dead's privacy. 

Eventually, he dropped his gaze to the ground, where tree roots were poking up violently. He almost toppled over them a couple of times and his heart skipped a few beats.

Whoever had thought of designing this place was evil, no doubt. It didn't come close to Gerard's imagination and recollection of Halloween, mossy-tombstone, spooky graveyard from the 1700s. Not in the slightest. This was far more harshly real, yet hard fathom, and Gerard just felt his bones tremble, and his mind murky, and he just felt  _cold_. Tombstones with names that looked recently etched on the stone were half-embedded in the ground in rows, with rarely one or two gaps between, as if they were keeping a seat for another grave.

Even the trees looked miserable, like they didn't want to be there. The wind was tautening them back, like strained nerves under pressure. 

Gerard tried to reach out to hold Frank again, but something kept holding him back. Frank looked too desolate, too lost. He didn't look like himself. 

He had his arms wrapped around himself, which felt so wrong, okay, Gerard wanted to hold him and never let him go. His eyes looked dark and frightened, roving around frenzied. Every step he took seemed reluctant, and Gerard could be wrong, but the moment Frank unwrapped his arms around himself, his hands looked like they were shaking. 

He stopped under a tree, next to a lone gravestone, unscathed by the looks of it, and he just sank to his knees there, staring at it, expression vacant. Gerard was almost startled, fearing that Frank had collapsed and fainted.

Alarmed, he walked over and crouched down beside him. His breath was hitched on his throat; he didn't know what to say anymore, apologize or comfort. Neither would have a profound effect, that's for sure, but at least he wouldn't be sitting gratuitously in silence.

But he didn't say anything, because Frank attempted to open his mouth to say something, but took a deep breath first.

"You know...One day they were fighting—it wasn't like the rest of their fights. They were throwing stuff at each other, hitting each other and he was holding a knife. I was scared," he began, voice low, measured, "I went downstairs and climbed up a table next to the window. I told them I'd jump if they didn't stop. So, he stopped first—he didn't use to be the way he is today. But then she left and that...that changed him completely."

Gerard lifted his gaze and looked at him. He still wanted to hold Frank in his arms. Instead, he let him continue.

"It was the first time he hit me. I remember him crying afterwards and saying he's sorry. Days later, when she came back, he told her he was taking me away. We were leaving. I wanted to hug her goodbye but she didn't. She just pushed me away." He went on, a frown prevalent on his face, "They never loved me, I get that. But why did they have me, or rather, why did they keep me if they didn't want me in the first place?"

At this point, it seemed to Gerard that the question was directed to him, but he didn't know how to answer. He figured it was the right moment, so he reached out and held Frank's hand tightly in his own. 

Frank leaned in and rested his head on Gerard's shoulder, Gerard's free arm wrapping around him protectively. 

"How did she die, Gerard?" Frank asked, this time, his voice wavering. "And why did he never tell me?"

"I don't know, Frank," Gerard replied honestly.

He just closed his eyes and focused on the sound of Frank's quiet impaired breathing and leaves rattling around. But no gust of wind, not even a light-breeze, blew. The wind had stopped bothering the trees by moving them around. So, that wasn't quite right. Weird. 

And then, Gerard heard a 'crack' sound, like a stick breaking. His rationale would try to convince him that maybe some squirrels were scampering around, but Gerard felt his spine tingle and he just  _had_  to look over his shoulder.

His eyes went wide and his face just— _froze_. He heard Frank sniffing next to him and felt him tipping over slowly to look as well.

"Sorry, I'm late for our little appointment. I was on the phone," Frank's father appeared, smirking wickedly. He was exactly like Gerard remembered him; dark suit and all, corrupted expression. As took another step towards them, he had his eyes fixed on Frank, which Gerard didn't like at all. "You, mister, have gotten me in a lot of trouble," he said, coming closer.

In an abrupt manner, Gerard stood up and, with his utmost bitter glare fixed on the man, stepped in front of Frank defensively. That definitely won the man's attention, but strangely, he just laughed.

"Hello there. Gerard, wasn't it?" The wicked smirk dissipated from his face in just a second. He drawled out bitterly, "Step away."

Not a chance. 

Gerard raised an eyebrow. "Nah."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, boy," the man warned and scrunched up his face.

Frank stood up behind Gerard and placed a hand on his shoulder, motioning him to do as the man said. Gerard was not convinced. That man wasn't coming any nearer to Frank. Gerard was trying to think of a plan, simultaneously, he was on it, but it was hard. Especially hard when the man was taking threatening steps towards them.

Perhaps they should run. But for how long? The neighborhood was pretty dead, they would hardly get noticed, and Gerard was almost certain the man would chase after them with a chainsaw like a maniac.

"Gerard, just do as he says—"

"No way."

"Oh, don't worry, Frank. I won't hit your pretty little boyfriend. You see, I'm not stupid. I don't concern myself with things that are not my business, unlike someone else," Frank's father said and threw Gerard a vitriolic glare. After a while of exchanged glares between them, the man looked at Frank again, incensed and threatening. "You're coming back. Now."

"Why can't you just let me go?  You know I'll never be in your way again," Frank forced out, words that sounded way too innocent. He didn't deserve this, Gerard thought.

The man scoffed. Apparently, he wasn't of the same mind. "Why—do you know how much trouble you've caused? You're a 'missing teenager' and I had to come all the way from Baltimore to look for you and the moment I leave  _his_  side, they turn  _him_  in," he spat, venom in his words. Gerard was confused, but this definitely wasn't the time to ask who ' _he_ ' was. 

"About time," Frank said under his breath, dropping his gaze to the ground and clenching his fists. 

"What did you say?" the man huffed in disbelief, taking a threatening step forward. Gerard's jaw tensed. "You've taken everything from me. First her," he paused and pointed to the grave behind them, and Gerard felt his stomach churn when he saw Frank clenching his eyes shut, "and now my own brother. Are you happy, Frank?"

"Stop it," Gerard blurted out and glowered. The man looked at him accusingly and raised his voice to an intimidating yell, 

"Shut the fuck up!"

"No,  _you_  shut the fuck up!" Frank snapped, his expression suddenly changing, indicating that he was apoplectic with rage. "You never told me. Why would you never tell me that my own mother's dead?!"

"And what's it to you? Guess what, Frank. If she hadn't been dead, she still wouldn't want to see you." 

Silence fell. Gerard knew he had to stop this. "Get the—"

"She didn't love you, Frank," the man spoke over him, encouraged by his triumph when he realized that the words he spoke actually afflicted Frank. "She didn't love me either. She didn't ever love us."

Another short silence pacified Gerard. He thought this was going to be over soon. That Frank's father was going to bequeath and just leave.

But Frank decided to speak suddenly, lifted his gaze and eyed the man. "He killed her, didn't he? Actually, no," he paused and huffed, his eyes sparkly, "you  _told_  him to kill her. You put your own paranoid brother to assassinate your wife. That why you're still keeping him around?"

That sounded like an exaggerated movie script. Gerard thought it couldn't be real. Frank was wishing he was wrong as much as Gerard did.

It took the man a while to speak—Gerard was almost positive he wouldn't. 

Nevertheless, he raised a defiant eyebrow and claimed calmly, "If I can't have her, nobody ever will."

Frank breathed out heavily. He seemed tense, like he wasn't sure whether to speak or not, but he did. "You're crazy."

"I'm not crazy." Anguish burning in his eyes, the man bit his lip and shook his head vehemently. Gerard was pretty sure he was trying to convince himself more than his son. "I thought we could be like a real family, Frank. I really did."

"What the fuck, we could never be like a family! You could never be my father, you never act like one. Fathers don't hate their children!" Frank yelled, at this point, enraged. The man attempted to lunge forward but Gerard prevented him with his elbow. However, he didn't seem to mind all that much, since he kept talking as if Gerard wasn't there. 

"Are you saying I'm incompetent?! I  _am_  your father, whether you like it or not."

"I don't like it! Surprised?" Frank spat, a flame of boldness burning up inside him. "I hate you! You made me rue the day I was born, you made sure I was living a nightmare every day, you ruined me! I  _hate_  you." 

His father stared speechless at him. "You never talk back to me. You're not supposed to—You know why you're not supposed to? You know, you are me!  _I want to hear you say it!_  Who am I, Frank?" he hissed, eyes wide-open like a lunatic. "Say it!" Frank shook his head and looked down. The man repeated, growing impatient, "Say it now!"

The absence of a reply seemingly struck a nerve within him. Gerard was surprised when he saw tears that shone in his eyes; tears that were provoked by fury, not sorrow. 

"I said say it."

"Go to hell," Frank glowered at him.

His father scoffed and took a step back, alleviating the tension burning up inside Gerard. He'd thought he was finally leaving. He'd thought that this would finally come to an end. Then, he and Frank would lapse into silence to recompose themselves and leave; they'd go back to Gerard's grandparents' house, take a peaceful nap and just— _forget this day._ Never revert back to these atrocious events. 

He'd merely hold Frank in his arms and tell him 'it's gonna be okay' a thousand—a million times if Frank needed it. And they'd wake up the next day, amnesia would white out everything in their memories. They'd go back home, wait until October 31st, until Frank had turned eighteen, and they would never have to fear again.

That didn't happen. No matter how much Gerard wished it would.

He wrapped an arm around Frank defensively as he observed the man turning away. Frank cradled himself and rested his head against Gerard's chest, letting a few tears flow freely.

Gerard had been deluded. Suddenly, relief inside him dispelled and evaporated into shock, and then shock turned into inexplicable dread, as the man turned around and Gerard saw it. 

There, black metal and shiny, slipped into the waistband of his pants. But not for long, as he extracted it and whipped around. It was a  _gun_. He was holding a  _gun_.

And Frank panicked as well. He began trying to push Gerard away, repeating beseechingly, "Gerard, _leave_ , he's got a fucking  _gun_. Leave, please. You need to  _leave_."

"Frank, what the fuck! Are you crazy? He's got a gun, I'm not leaving you here with a  _killer,_ " Gerard stated, panic evident in his voice. He stepped in front of Frank protectively again, despite Frank's attempts to push him away.

The man before them was evidently crying then, rivers of tears flowing down his scrunched up face. 

"Say it!" he screamed, eyes fixed on his terrified son. "Who am I, Frank, say it!"

"You're a fucking lunatic, that's who you are!" Frank retorted, his hands trembling. He finally managed to push Gerard back, which slightly hurt him, but all Frank wanted was to protect him. "Gerard, you have to go, he's crazy, he's going to—"

Suddenly, he froze at the feeling of the cold metal resting against his forehead.

"Get away from—" Gerard tried to say but the man shot him a glare and cut him off.

"Don't you fucking move," he warned Gerard, and Gerard did so, petrified. He focused his eyes on Frank again. "I said, say who I am."

"You're my father," Frank gave in, sounding almost calm. Too calm, in fact, that it terrified Gerard most. Like, Frank had an actual gun pulled on him and he didn't care? 

"Again," the man ordered, and Gerard was nervous and frightened and confused to the  _hilt_.

"Y-you're," Frank sighed heavily before forcing the words out, "y-you're my d-dad."

The man retracted the gun from Frank's forehead and narrowed his bloodshot eyes at him. 

"Exactly," he hissed, and his hand slowly moved in halting motions to point the gun at Gerard, whose stomach twisted instantaneously. He felt the man's heavy hand grab him by the shoulder and heard Frank inhale sharply, terrified. "And why did you try to run away from your home? How could you do this to Daddy?"

"S-stop it!" Frank raised his voice to a hectoring cry. "Get the fuck away from him! Just—please,  _please_ , stop! I'll do anything you want me to, just get  _away_  from him, please. I'll come back and—"

Gerard felt his every muscle go tense, his face drained of color. For a moment, he really thought about making his last vows, saying goodbye. Now,  _he_  had a gun pulled on him and he was  _shaking_. And Frank was crying, sobbing loudly and begging. Maybe he was crying  _for_  Gerard. Maybe the man had already pulled the trigger. Perhaps Gerard was already dead.

Frank's father just laughed maliciously. "Come back?! You think you can come back—you think there's somewhere to go back to? They'll turn me  _in_ , and all because of you. If  _he_ doesn't give me away, you and your sucker boyfriend will tell them  _everything_. I know you will."

As it seemed, Gerard wasn't dead yet. He could still hear Frank sobbing incessantly beside him, trying to squirm him free of the man's grip. Gerard could feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He scrunched his eyes shut tight and just strained not to cry. 

"W-why—stop it! I'm sorry! There! I'm sorry for everything I've ever done to you," Frank choked out, yanking on Gerard's sleeve and eyeing his father despondently. "I'm so so sorry, just—p-please let him g-go!"

There was a moment of short silence again, toxic and bitter like the acid in Gerard's throat. He felt so hopeless right then, like there wasn't anything he could do. 

In spite of that feeling, he took a hold of Frank's cold hand and held it tightly, stroking it reassuringly—the least he could do to try and soothe him while he still had the barrel of a gun resting against his forehead.

"You used to be a little boy," the man said, all of a sudden, shaking his head wildly, "you never needed anyone, you were just self-reliant, always doing everything by yourself. I thought you'd wither and crumble after what you've been through."

Frank was probably going through a panic attack at the moment. He couldn't stop crying, and he was soon breathing faultily, muttering pleading words.

"You never asked for any help, even when you _desperately_  needed it, even when you broke your leg falling off the fucking stairs, you didn't fucking shed a tear, and your leg was twisted—but you didn't shed a tear, because you knew—y-you knew I was going to go off on you!" the man raised his voice hysterically, talking over Frank's sobs and implores. "How could you? How could a little boy do everything on his own?!"

He jerked the gun briefly in Gerard's direction and tears streamed down his cheeks, his hand shaking as he went on. "And you figured out how to play the guitar on your own, and you always cooked by yourself, and I was never there, I never encouraged you! And you never complained about the fact that I always put you in the cold basement to sleep— _never_!"

"You don't k-know what you're talking about, s-stop," Frank quavered, Gerard clutching his hand in his, immovable as he was petrified. He was cringing, as the gun was still pressed up against his skull.

"Oh, but I do!" the man yelled, wiping his tears away with his sleeve. "She never gave you the love you needed—I never gave you any love. I hit you and I was hysterical and I took my anger out on a child—oh God, I  _abused_  you. I was disintegrating something  _perfect_."

Frank jerked at the sound the gun made, the ominous clicking it did in movies. He screamed repeatedly and kept trying to squirm Gerard out of the man's grasp, but it was close to impossible. 

Gerard's lungs seized up. Bearing, he struggled not to burst into tears. He was  _frightened_  to the skull.

The man curled his fingers around the trigger and said, "That you must know, Frank. You're flawless..."

"Get away from—" Frank tried to scream at him but his father spoke over him.

"I'm sorry," he told Frank, before turning the gun last minute, pointing it to the side of his own head, and pulling the trigger. 

After the loud noise, Gerard's ears were humming irritatingly. For a moment, he really thought he was dead, but when he opened his eyes, he realized it wasn't him that was lying on the ground with blood all over his face.

Frank was hysterically screaming, and that was basically the only thing Gerard could discern. He had pulled away from Gerard and covered his face with his hands in despair. 

He saw Frank kneeling down, above the puddle of blood that was still forming around the dead man's body. He cradled himself and just kept screaming words, drawn-out and indistinguishable.

Gerard was shaking unbelievably. When he clenched his cold fists, he couldn't feel his fingers. 

He traipsed over to Frank and hunkered down next to him, aching physically and mentally all over. Hesitantly, he made an attempt to hug him, but seeing as Frank really wasn't himself, Gerard just placed his hand on his shoulder and shut his eyes, trying to avoid looking at the bloody dead body and its bloody face before him.

He didn't know how long they'd been sitting there, but Frank eventually grabbed Gerard's hand and didn't let go. His screams and cries didn't seem to cease or lessen in any way. They were only getting worse. 

Soon, Frank began digging his fingernails into his skin. Deep, so deep he left red marks behind, scratches, and opened wounds that started to bleed. He was hurting himself, and no matter how hard Gerard was trying to stop him, he wouldn't.

It wasn't long before people had started huddling into groups outside, gasping and calling the cops frantically. Although Gerard was glad they called the police, he never asked for Frank to be violently taken away from him. 

As soon as the police and emergency services arrived, their first priority seemed to be separate Frank from Gerard.

He wouldn't let go of Frank at first, but after he was ordered to multiple times, he gave in, thinking it was best to let Frank calm down. 

Although, the hands that were trying to pry him off of Gerard were probably not understanding. Frank needed Gerard. Frank _really_  couldn't calm down.

Even after Gerard let Frank go, the hands couldn't pull him off of him. He was holding onto him as if it was a matter of life and death, sobbing into his chest.

The people's callousness seemed to be thankfully marginal, as they finally quit their attempts and injected Frank with a sedative of some sort, Gerard guessed and gasped at the thought of a needle pressing into Frank's pale skin. 

Frank went slowly limp in Gerard's arms and two pairs of hands were shushing soothingly and rubbing at crying-Gerard's back gently to coax him to let go. 

And so, he relented and watched as people took Frank away from him, regret flushing through him immediately. 

He dropped his gaze to the ground guiltily and noticed that the dead body was gone. His mind seemed to be persuading him to invoke the visualization of the horrid burial that would follow. He tried to shake the thoughts away, but he ended up provoking others. What would happen to them, how long was he going to be away from Frank? How was he going to bear? What was he going to say to his grandmother, mother, and Mikey?

A mayhem carried on in his head, until he briefly caught a glimpse of Frank again. Then, suddenly, his mind went blank.

His fingers curled around the fabric of a heavy blanket someone threw around him. A warm hand was stroking his back slowly and gently, tracing a certain pattern that failed to soothe him. Actually, it started to irritate him after a while.

He lifted his gaze again and stared at Frank's limp body. People were being so loud around them, yet Frank looked asleep and peaceful.

"Frank," Gerard mumbled inadvertently, a tear making its way down his cheek. Apparently, the owner of the hand on his back heard him, because they sped up their repeated patterned movements and told him, 

"It's gonna be okay, son. He's gonna be okay."

Even though Gerard believed the voice that spoke, he bowed his head and burst into fresh tears.


	27. We're Chasing The Sun

"I'm happy to see you again, Gerard."

"You really should change your scripted salutations, y'know. Been saying that since fucking forever," Gerard laughed at his therapist and watched the corner of her mouth lifting, the familiar smirk recurring in his mind. "Do you still say that to everyone?"

"Not really. I usually say 'lovely to see you again,' but well, you're an exception. You never liked when I said that," Dr. Piller smiled warmly and clicked her pen before dropping her gaze down to her papers. She scratched her chin, thinking. "So, it's already...What?"

"March second," Gerard reminded her, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "A while since you've been here or what? You never forget what date it is."

Dr. Piller huffed a laugh and lifted her eyes to eye the teenager in her office once she was done jotting down the date. "It's been a while. Last time I was here was...two weeks ago, I reckon, for our appointment again. I don't check the date unless I'm at the office."

Surprised, Gerard let out a drawn-out 'ooh' and leaned in to ask, "So, you didn't see anybody else, huh? Are you selling out then? Selling out of what, though? Your psychological credentials?"

"That's close to impossible. However," she paused and pointed her pen to the side of her head, "I'm slowly losing this, so I'm finally taking a break."

"Really? Then why did you agree on seeing me?"

Dr. Piller straightened up and started playing with the pen in her hands nervously, drumming it on her desk. "I was worried about you," she replied sincerely and cleared her throat. Gerard had to block his mouth with his palm in order to keep the impending laughter in.

He gave her a once-over whilst she kept staring at him awkwardly. 

"You're wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt!" he pointed out eventually, like a toddler that's seen a unicorn, and beamed at her, causing her to groan. To Gerard's mind, it seemed that this was all too reminiscent of last year.

"Gerard," his therapist said and held her hands up, reenacting their moment from a year ago, "I'm only human!"

Gerard laughed brightly, in a way he hadn't done in a while. He only laughed and beamed like that when he saw Frank on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. 

Fucking mental institutes. Once Frank was out of there next week, Gerard would set fire to the building and, specifically, immolate that redheaded nurse that kept hitting on his boyfriend since fucking August. He'd set fire on the nurse's head, watch if his hair could be more red. And anyway, he  _wasn't_  a natural ginger and Gerard knew it.

"Anyway," Dr. Piller began, finally putting her pen down on the table. "How's the gap year going? Any plans for later?"

"Oh, come on, Piller, you know what I'm going to say," Gerard rolled his eyes, his answer being obvious: "Art school. Art school's the only choice that doesn't make me go 'and then what?' Plus, it's the one thing my mother and I can both agree on, now that she can actually speak again."

"So, you made up? That's amazing—" 

"Nuh-uh," Gerard cut her off, "we didn't make up. She just decided to unzip her lips and start grumbling again." Dr. Piller made a 'go on' gesture with her hands. Gerard sat up in his chair, clearing his throat before reiterating, "Okay. I get that she freaked out and all, but she didn't speak any words directed to me for  _five_  fucking months. And I never believed I'd say this, but sometimes, I thank God for Dad. Rarely, but I do. It's times like these, when nobody can calm my mother down but him."

A smile prevailed on Dr. Piller's face. Gerard had been confused at first, but he later noticed himself that he'd referred to his father as 'Dad' again. He waved her off and rolled his eyes, hoping they could forget that. 

Usually, he'd blame it entirely on Mikey; he was the one who started calling him 'Dad' again. And then, all of a sudden, Ray was asked to call him 'Dad'. And even more strange, the most absurd thing was that Ray actually did call him 'Dad'. Like, regularly. 

So, Gerard was so used to it now, the word just slipped off his tongue involuntarily.

"I'm glad to hear that things have been going better between you." 

"Yeah, whatever, they're leaving in two weeks. Resuming their trip I accidentally ruined." He lowered his gaze and smiled to himself as he envisioned, fast-forward to a week from then. 

Dr. Piller noted rightly, "But you're leaving too. And you're not running away this time."

"Yeah," Gerard agreed, his smile burgeoning. "But I would, if I hadn't taken their nod. To be honest, I'm surprised they even let me, but I'm not questioning anything. I'm just going to take Frank and go. We're both adults now, no one in the house can tell us what to do. Well, except Mikey, sometimes..."

"I imagine you have a plan this time, as to where you're going. Don't you?"

"Well, for the first week, we're going to a three-day festival. Then we'll be seeing Bon Jovi and then, some friends of mine in Boston. We'll meet up with Mikey, Ray, Bob, and Pete, most likely. Yeah..." he mused, "I guess after that, I've left us with the freedom to do whatever we want. It won't be like running away, but at least there'll still be that feeling of...you know..."

"Freedom? Independence?" Dr. Piller offered, swiftly, as if she knew. As if she was reading it off a list. "Feeling alive and paying attention to the present rather than the future."

"Yeah. That! Alive," Gerard exclaimed, nodding his head wildly. He lifted his gaze from the floor and looked at the woman inquiringly. "How did you know? That's exactly what it felt like! I didn't give a damn about tomorrow because I had to focus on the present to keep things going. How couldyou know what that felt like?"

"Oh, Gerard," she shook her head, laughing. Gerard had to admit, there were times he didn't even believe his therapist was human and could only name human emotions, but this, in all probability, proved him wrong. "I want to run away as an adult more than I ever did as a kid. Carelessness and aliveness would be the essences of my dream life."

Gerard examined her faint smile and her glimmering eyes. For the first time, his therapist spoke about herself. All along, she had been only listening to Gerard's problems, aiming to help him find a solution or console him. No wonder she needed a break. Listening to all those people talk about their issues has probably influenced her mind, made it go murky. 

Run away, she said she wanted. She had determination, but no boldness. If Gerard hadn't been bold, he would've never taken Frank to run away and, who knows, he might have even lost him.

Trusting his impulses, for once in his life, had gotten him somewhere. It had gotten him next to the person he loved. 

"Then do it, don't wallow, it won't do you any good," he told her, the words coming straight from his heart. She heaved a sigh. He did likewise and tried again, "Piller, life has no remote. You have to get up yourself and change it. By the time you've mustered up the courage to do it, you might not have something else. A person, motivation, years ahead of you."

"I've already lost many years in the way, Gerard," she said, sorrow flashing to the surface of her expression. "I'm done for."

"Wow, and I thought I was the one to always exaggerate," Gerard laughed at her attitude, surprised. "No, you're not! And anyway, you'll lose more years if you wait. What do you have to lose? You're leaving this place and taking a break anyway. Think of it as a road trip."

They fell into silence. Dr. Piller frowned, lost in her own mind, for once, in front of Gerard. Gerard just stared at her, awaiting a reply. 

"You are..." she eventually said, eyes darting around her office that was withering in her mind like the flowers on her porch, "you're absolutely right."

Gerard sat back, pleased with himself and his therapist. "Course I am." He huffed out a laugh. "Oh, how the tables have turned."

"Indeed," she laughed with him, blissful and full of hope. "Guess I'll need to figure out how to live the life I've been waiting for."

"No manual or psychology textbook on that, huh?" Gerard teased and watched her shaking her head slowly.

"Sadly no."

Gerard was glad there wasn't one. Figuring stuff out on your own can be challenging, but it's worth the satisfaction you get in the end.

"Is Frank returning today?" Dr. Piller asked him all of a sudden, not exactly pertinent to the existential conversation they previously had, but Gerard was glad she did. It brought a smile instantly back to his face. 

"Yes, he is," he paused to think and added, "but well, he's leaving later this evening. With me."

Dr. Piller reciprocated the warm smile and said honestly, "I wish you two the best of luck."

"You too, Doc," Gerard politely replied and crossed his arms across his chest, already thinking about the moment he'd see Frank. 

After a moment's reflection, the woman added, "Thank you."

***

"Don't open your eyes yet!"

"Then hurry up! I can't wait—" Frank whined but didn't open his eyes. He had a radiant, broad smile on his face already, which excited Gerard most. All day, he'd been thinking 'wait till you see this, Frank' but now he was pretty sure the smile on Frank's face couldn't get any better.

"Okay, okay. Now open them," he said as he unwrapped his arms around Frank and moved beside him. And well, he had been wrong. Frank's smile could get brighter and broader. 

"Junkie!" Frank exclaimed in surprise and traipsed over the car, beaming. He ran his hand across the hood, laughing, "You didn't get totaled in hell! My God—that's amazing, Gee! How did you find it?"

Gerard shrugged, smiling helplessly. "That girl—Stacy found it as she was driving back, and somehow, she found Mom's number in there, called her—I mean, Junkie needed a few modifications here and there but it should be fine now."

Moving closer to Gerard and threading his fingers through his, Frank laughed blissfully. "I was expecting something more like, 'I had to fight three lions, and five vultures were attacking me from behind, while the sweltering heat of the Arizona sun was roasting my back'."

"Arizona?" Gerard giggled. "Hate to break it to you, Frankie, but we didn't go that far."

Frank rolled his eyes and flung himself at Gerard. "Oh, shut up. We did! We went to the moon and we came back."

"To the sun," Gerard corrected him and placed a gentle kiss on his neck, taking a moment to breathe in. Thoughts and ideas percolated his head and tingled in his veins. He was going to burst from elation. He'd never felt so alive before, it seemed to him, that everything was starting now anew. "Ready to do it again?"

"Oh, hell yeah."

And so, Gerard and Frank clambered in the car with smiles of burgeoning excitement they couldn't help. Reminiscent of something, but also feeling like they were at the commencement of something brand new. This was going to be a whole new, different journey.

Mikey, Ray, and Bob might not have been there to say goodbye to them, but that was okay, because they'd be seeing them in less than a week at a concert. It was scheduled. At six PM, outside the main gateway. And Gerard would be with Frank. Any more than that, he didn't know. That was up to the universe to decide. 

So, that was adult life, huh? Semi-planned? Gerard thought to himself. Honestly, he was quite gratified with that. Content.

"Man, these two months are going to be the highlight of my life," Frank said, strapping himself in. 

Gerard couldn't agree more. "Ready to spend two days in a tent with me?" 

"Well," Frank began, laughing, "tents make me nervous, but if you hold me, I'll be fine. Although...now that we've got the car..." He glanced at the backseat of the car over his shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows at Gerard.

"Nope. We're not gonna be sleeping in the car. Not a chance." Gerard straightened up in his seat, hands on the steering wheel. He talked over Frank's evil chuckles, "No sex in this car."

"Fine," Frank groaned, hand moving slyly to land on Gerard's thigh, "sex in a tent is just fine."

Smiling broadly, Gerard rolled his eyes. He'd say something back, but he was focusing on starting the car. Mysteriously, the engine made an ominous, grinding noise when it turned on, causing Frank to look sideways at Gerard. The look on his face wasn't of concern. 

He burst out laughing, making it impossible for Gerard not to do so as well. 

The car filled with raucous, blithe laughter. The sun was setting. The engine may or may not have given up on life yet. 

"Alright, blue sunset," Frank finally said when he was done laughing, his eyes sparkling with excitement, heart pounding in his chest, "let's try chasing the sun one more time."

Gerard smirked and started the car, properly, this time. "Gladly."

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. That was...a ride.  
> I certainly hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for the comments, hits, votes on Wattpad. I really appreciate it. I can't believe I finally finished this story. When I started, I had no idea what I was doing...Not that I do now, nope, not at all. But, I mean, the fact that I finally mark this story as complete is indicative of some SLIGHT progress.  
> Thank you all for reading! More stuff soon to come.  
> Until next time, xxS


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